


meet me on the quidditch pitch

by Vitexy



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic, Quidditch, Slow Burn, Wizards, side woosang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 41,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitexy/pseuds/Vitexy
Summary: As a muggle born wizard somehow sorted into Slytherin, San is used to feeling out of place. However, San feels the most out of place out on the quidditch pitch, especially when he kind of really hates the Gryffindor's Keeper. San doesn't know how he let Seonghwa talk him into this.
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho
Comments: 53
Kudos: 282





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is like within the same universe as Harry Potter but different in that as a house Slytherin is struggling with numbers because who really likes them? I mean really? lol. I'm not much of a buff when it comes to this universe so if things are wrong I apologize but also oh well. 
> 
> I don't really like this story, but it's been sitting around...What I really wanted was to just write something where Slytherin!San was wearing Gryffindor!Yunho's colors and idk why I had to write all this crap to get there. 
> 
> I also wrote a smut side story because it didn't need to be but I thought of it while I was finishing this so then it just was in the same universe. I'll get the courage to post it eventually

Wooyoung suspects something is wrong when San suddenly ducks into the boy’s washroom in the middle of a conversation. His only forewarning being a touch to Wooyoung’s elbow to gain his attention before he suddenly dives for the bathroom door. His suspicions only grow when Seonghwa approaches him soon after. Wooyoung straightens up, limbs all tensed up when the sixth year Slytherin stops right in front of him. The green and silver tie peeks out of his robe, and the Hufflepuff eyes his senior warily. 

To be completely fair, Wooyoung doesn’t know much about Seonghwa outside of the fact that he’s a Slytherin and San’s senior. He does make the fifth year Hufflepuff nervous though. Not because he’s a Slytherin, of course. Wooyoung isn’t so shallow as to judge someone based on their house. Well, maybe he is, but he’s friends with San, he justifies to himself. And San is a Slytherin. Mostly he’s scared of the senior Slytherin because San seems scared of him. 

Seonghwa eyes the Hufflepuff in front of him, eyes straying over the hallway like he’s looking for something. Wooyoung keeps silent, staring up at him with wide eyes. Finally, the Slytherin asks, “Have you seen San?” 

Almost instinctively, his eyes stray towards the boy’s washroom, though he manages to catch himself in time. His gaze snaps back up to Seonghwa, and he frantically shakes his head. “No. Why would I know where he is?” 

“You guys are friends, aren’t you?” Seonghwa points out, eyes narrowed. 

Wooyoung tries to suppress a shiver, fingers curling into his robe. He swallows audibly. “We are,” he confirms after a long pause. “But that doesn’t mean I always know where he is.” That’s not really true. He and San are practically attached at the hip—on San’s part anyways. Wooyoung could probably do without him clinging to him at all times, but the Slytherin boy didn’t seem to have many friends aside from one lone Hufflepuff. 

Seonghwa folds his arms over his chest, casting another glance over the hallway. “Well, if you see him, will you tell him I was looking for him?” 

“Sure thing,” Wooyoung mock salutes the Slytherin who rolls his eyes. Seonghwa departs then, and the Hufflepuff breathes a sigh of relief as he passes. He waits until the Slytherin is out of sight before hops up to the washroom door. “He’s gone,” he calls to the door, assuming that Seonghwa had been the reason for San’s sudden skittishness. 

The door creaks open, San peering out of it with wide eyes, scanning the hallway like he still expects Seonghwa to be lingering somewhere. When he doesn’t see him, he finally exits the washroom, head bowed sheepishly to Wooyoung who shakes his head at him. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, tugging at a strand of his dark hair. 

The blond rolls his eyes. “What the hell was that about?” he asks. 

“Huh?” San blinks at his friend, doing his best to look as innocent as possible. Wooyoung resists the urge to retch at his behavior. “What? Nothing. I just had to take a piss.” 

“Oh, so you weren’t hiding in the washroom like a pussy because you’re trying to avoid Seonghwa?” Wooyoung questions. 

The Slytherin twirls a strand of his hair around a finger. “Avoiding Seonghwa? Who, me? Why would I do that?” he laughs nervously. 

“You tell me,” Wooyoung snorts, reaching out to grab his friend by the hand and pulling him along—in the opposite direction that Seonghwa had gone. “You guys are in the same house, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you get along?” 

“We do get along,” San says defensively, though the fact that he’s still twirling a strand of hair around his finger is a dead giveaway that he’s lying. Wooyoung’s known him since their first year at Hogwarts, and he knows that it’s a bad habit of his to play with his hair when he’s nervous or lying. The skepticism must show clearly on his face because San finally releases the hold on his hair and says more convincingly, “We do.” 

They do get along. Seonghwa has always been a good upperclassmen, teaching San the ropes and protecting him when need be. The young Slytherin appreciates him, but lately he’s been absolutely hounding San over an issue that the younger Slytherin just couldn’t care less about. Hence the avoidance. 

“Then all that was about…?” The Hufflepuff prompts. 

San shrugs his shoulders. “He’s just been asking me the same thing over and over again,” he explains. “For weeks. I’m just kind of tired of it.” 

Wooyoung raises his eyebrows. “What? Are you not doing your homework? You’re not cleaning up after yourself in the common room?” 

San cringes, face contorting more and more with each one of Wooyoung’s guesses. They’re all very plausible things for Seonghwa to scold him over—in fact he has scolded San over both of these things on multiple occasions. Wooyoung has borne witness to many such rants. “Something like that,” he answers vaguely

“Choi San,” Wooyoung sighs. “What on earth have you done now?” 

But the Slytherin shrugs him off, leading Wooyoung by the elbow to their next class. Whatever it is, he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, so Wooyoung doesn’t press. 

  
  
  
  


Whatever it is, the Hufflepuff is beginning to think it must be serious. He’s convinced it must be when Seonghwa approaches him a bit sheepishly while he attempts to study for a test in Herbology. Wooyoung is absolutely abysmal at the subject, and honestly hadn’t cared much for succeeding in the test until one of his fellow housemates suggested studying together. He was never one to turn down any type of socializing event. 

Now his housemate, Mingi, sits absolutely stock still in his seat, staring resolutely down at his textbook when Seonghwa taps him on the shoulder. Wooyoung peers up at the Slytherin through his bangs. “I’m sorry,” he begins. 

“I, uh, don’t know where San is,” Wooyoung tells him before the Slytherin can even ask. This is about the fifth time Seonghwa has asked him about his fellow Slytherin, and Wooyoung is beyond confused as to how Seonghwa is struggling to pin down his own housemate. 

“Ah.” The Slytherin looks disappointed but unsurprised by the response. It’s the same one he’s received every time after all. Sometimes it’s true, like right now Wooyoung truly has no idea where San has holed himself away. Other times he’s just covering for his friend when San converts any and every corner, pillar, and crack into a hiding spot from the older Slytherin. Truthfully Wooyoung is starting to get confused. 

“Can’t you just, like, corner him in the dorms?” Wooyoung suggests. It seems logical enough. They’re both Slytherins for God’s sake. Wooyoung can’t even begin to comprehend why Seonghwa seems to constantly be looking for San. He doesn’t come across the elder too often, but when he does it’s always the same request. Has he seen San? 

“He’s been breaking curfew and keeping away from the dormitories,” Seonghwa replies with a pensive look on his face. 

“Well, I don’t—he’s not always with me, you know,” the Hufflepuff tells him. “If you couldn’t tell.” He looks pointedly across the table at Mingi who is furiously flipping through his textbook as he pretends to study. 

Seonghwa sighs though he looks apologetically between the two Hufflepuffs. “I know. I’m sorry. I just...don’t think he has any other friends. And, usually if he’s not with us, he’s with you.”

Wooyoung flinches, gaze turning down to the table top. He’d met San on the train ride to the school, and they became fast friends. He still likes San, obviously. Things just became more complicated after they were Sorted and San ended up in Slytherin. “Well, maybe he’s hanging out with some other Slytherins?” he suggests even when he knows it’s not true. Seonghwa is right. San really doesn’t have any friends outside of one Hufflepuff he met on the train once. At least, not at Hogwarts he doesn’t. Seonghwa might be the closest thing he has to a second friend, but it’s hard to tell from the way he seems to be avoiding him at all costs currently. 

The Hufflepuff clears his throat. “Um, is there something you’d like me to pass on to him? You clearly need to tell him something.” 

“It’s not anything too important,” Seonghwa assures him, smiling thinly at the younger boy. 

“Alright well,” Wooyoung trails off for a moment as he looks down at his own textbook. He and Mingi hadn’t really been studying so much as just talking. It’s the way study sessions usually go down between the two of them, but suddenly he’d be glad to study if it meant Seonghwa would just leave. “If I see him, I’ll let him know that you’re _still_ looking to scold him for something.” 

The Slytherin nods his head with a quiet thanks, apologizing once more for interrupting their study session before he leaves the Hufflepuffs to their own devices. When he’s gone, Mingi breathes an audible sigh of relief that has Wooyoung cringing. 

“What’s up with you and Slytherins anyways?” he asks curiously. 

Wooyoung bristles at the question. “Nothing!” he snaps at his housemate before immediately regretting it. He feels bad. He likes San, really he does, but sometimes it feels like being friends with a Slytherin is more detrimental than it’s worth. As soon as the thought travels through his head, he immediately banishes it. Mentally he scolds himself for even pondering such thoughts. Houses have nothing to do with it, he scolds himself. San is San, and he’s one of Wooyoung’s closest friends—houses be damned. 

  
  
  
  


San must still be hiding from Seonghwa because Wooyoung can’t find him in the Great Hall during breakfast. Instead he finds the Slytherin nibbling on a pastry in the courtyard. The Hufflepuff huffs as he brushes his bangs from his eyes. He’d been worried when he couldn’t find San during breakfast, but here he was just hiding from his own house mate—probably. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he asks, playfully smacking the Slytherin on the back. 

San jumps, twisting his body to face Wooyoung, and he immediately relaxes when he sees it’s just the Hufflepuff. Wooyoung stares at him. “It’s nice today,” San says as an explanation, taking another little bite of his croissant. 

As if the universe itself is on Seonghwa’s side, a cool breeze blows by the two of them and they both shiver. Wooyoung hunches down into his robes, pulling them close to his body, while San at least tries to play it off although the Hufflepuff can see him shivering beneath his uniform. Spring is on its way, but that doesn’t mean the weather is actually nice yet. 

“Right,” Wooyoung deadpans, wrapping his arms around his friend to transfer some of his warmth. San sinks into him but refuses to actually give him the truth. Wooyoung reaches out, tearing off a piece of San’s pastry before stuffing it into his mouth while the Slytherin protests. He considers it a tax—for being such a great friend for San. As he chews, he takes that time to figure out what he wants to say to broach the topic San is so clearly avoiding. 

Ultimately he decides that being blunt has never really failed him yet. “Are you going to tell me what Seonghwa actually wants?” he asks, hugging San tighter when the Slytherin starts to squirm in his grip. San reaches down for his wand, but Wooyoung beats him to it, pulling it out of his pocket and hiding it in his own robes. San isn’t going to wiggle his way out of this one in any sense of the word. 

“It’s stupid,” San says, trying to dismiss Wooyoung’s question. The Hufflepuff is having none of it though. 

“You know, if it were I don’t think he’d be _this_ persistent,” he points out, resting his chin on San’s shoulders. “So it’s either very important, or you’re being an absolutely disgusting slob in the Slytherin common room.” 

“It’s neither of those,” San denies, again squirming around in Wooyoung’s hold. 

“I mean, he can’t even find you in the dormitories,” Wooyoung says with a huff, completely ignoring the Slytherin. “How is that possible? You’re in the same house. Where the hell are you going at night?” 

“Oh, my God. Wooyoung, it’s not important.” 

“Where are you going at night?” the Hufflepuff presses, fingers digging into San’s side. His reaction is instant, a breathy giggle falling from his lips as he hunches over. His pastry falls from his hand, tumbling to the ground, and San bemoans his loss before Wooyoung starts tickling him again. “Tell me and I’ll stop,” Wooyoung says, grunting when he has to shift onto his knees to keep himself wrapped around the Slytherin. 

“Just—” San gasps, elbowing Wooyoung before he collapses onto the grass on his stomach. “Just the Astronomy Tower.” 

The Hufflepuff pulls back, head tilting to the side. “You’ve been ditching curfew to go to the Astronomy Tower?” 

San shrugs him off, crawling away from the Hufflepuff so he can push himself back up onto his knees. “Nobody knows.” He shoots Wooyoung a pointed look, and the blond holds his hands up in surrender. He won’t say anything, particularly because the Head Girl this year is from Hufflepuff. “Besides,” looking down at his lap, San reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, rectangular device that Wooyoung squints at. 

“I thought you couldn’t use that here,” the Hufflepuff says, finally recognizing the smart phone in San’s hand. He’s not much of an expert on Muggle devices. He’s only learned some things from his friendship with San, but he doesn’t understand the point of some of the Muggle inventions—particularly the phone. Why use that when a paper and quill are a perfectly viable option? There’s also the fact that San has complained in the past about his phone not working within the school grounds. 

“I can get one bar of signal in the Astronomy Tower.” 

Wooyoung nods his head like he understands even though he has no idea what that means. “So you’re going to the Astronomy Tower to get one bar of signal?” 

San rolls his eyes, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. “Yeosang is a night owl. He keeps me company.” 

“But you can also just send him a message, no?” Wooyoung’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I send him plenty of letters.” 

The Slytherin scoffs, picking up his ruined pastry as he gets to his feet. “You just don’t get it,” he sighs with a shake of his head. Yeah, Yeosang certainly receives his letters fast enough, but there’s still the fact that he then has to go searching his house for a piece of paper and a pen—which he almost never has on hand—and then write something back and hand it off to Wooyoung’s owl, Winnie. Besides, on multiple occasions Yeosang has expressed how terrified he is of that bird. 

“It just sits there and _stares at you_ ,” he said when San had come to visit him over the Christmas break. San had paused in the middle of their fierce sugar cookie decorating competition to look over at Winnie who was perched on the windowsill in the kitchen. She was indeed just looking at them. 

“She’s an owl,” San eventually shrugged it off, crying out in dismay when he smeared some red icing on his arm. “I’m pretty sure that’s, like, all they do.” He lifted his arm up to lick the icing off. 

“What if it eats my dog?” Yeosang asked nervously, eyeing his toy maltese sleeping on the couch. 

“She’s a wizard’s owl, not a feral one. She knows better than to go around eating people’s pets.” Still, Yeosang continued to eye the owl suspiciously until he finally finished writing out a response to Wooyoung, flinching away when Winnie took the envelope from him before flying off. 

Truly, nothing was more disgusting than watching his pure blood wizard friend trying to court his Muggle one. 

“Alright, but none of this explains why you’re avoiding Seonghwa.” 

Groaning, San turns to face his friend. “Is it really that important?” he asks, voice strained as he holds his hand out for his wand. 

Wooyoung returns it without much fuss. “I mean, I don’t know, but he’s starting to hunt me down in order to find you, so…” He shrugs his shoulders. 

San runs his fingers through his hair before turning to walk off. They have classes soon. Wooyoung quickly runs after him, hanging onto his robes as he catches up to the Slytherin. “Seonghwa wants to reform the Slytherin Quidditch team,” San tells him on their way to Divination. 

Wooyoung nearly trips over his own feet, barely catching himself as he doubles his pace to catch up to his friend. “Oh?” he asks, curious. The Slytherin’s Quidditch team has been very on and off in recent years, and by that he means whether they even have a team. The whole house has been struggling in the years following the Second Wizarding War. More and more incoming students have actively been avoiding the house, and the Sorting Hat has sorted fewer students into it than ever before in spite of their thinning numbers. There were a few brief years where the house seemed to bounce back, but this isn’t one of those years. 

He’s honestly still a little shocked that San had been sorted into the Slytherin house. The Muggle boy he’d met on the train seemed more like a Hufflepuff to him—perhaps one of the reasons they’d initially gotten along really well. When he’d been sorted into Slytherin, Wooyoung had been more than a little shocked, although San hadn’t seemed to care much. He wouldn’t have been, being raised as a Muggle and all. Besides, San never really concerned himself over the affairs of the houses. He was a Slytherin but hardly seemed all that motivated in team activities even if he was often scoring them house points during class, so he supposes that he can’t exactly picture San being all that excited for a Slytherin Quidditch team. 

Wooyoung remembers that they had a team during their first year here. They did okay, able to beat out Ravenclaw’s team by one game, but they haven’t had one since. He thinks he remembers Seonghwa being on the team, but he honestly doesn’t remember. He’d really only gone to Hufflepuff games to be fair, but Wooyoung supposes it’s not all that surprising that they would attempt to reform the team. 

“I don’t see the problem with that?” he responds. “I mean, let them have it. It’s not like they’d win.” Gryffindor has been dominating the field for years now, though they’ve had a few years where they’ve dropped the title to Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Not Slytherin though. It’s kind of hard to beat out any other houses when you can’t maintain a consistent team. Wooyoung isn’t even sure if they have a coach. 

San shoots Wooyoung an annoyed glare, but the Hufflepuff just shrugs his shoulders because it’s kind of true. “What? I mean, come on. It would be nice. You could have some school spirit, go to a game, cheer them on. You know, all that stuff.” Wooyoung had invited him to a match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor their first year here. San had never gone to another game since. Probably because of the person who had transfigured his popcorn into a bunch of cockroaches. They never caught the bastard either. 

“Yeah, except he wants me to _be_ on the team.” 

Wooyoung laughs at that, slapping a hand over his mouth when San glares at him again, and he realizes that the Slytherin wasn’t telling a joke. “Wait, really?”

San shakes his head and hurries his pace down the hall. “Yes, really. That’s why he’s constantly on my ass. Otherwise they don’t have enough people.” 

The Hufflepuff momentarily pauses as he decides whether or not San is telling him the truth. It’s not that he doesn’t think San would be awful at Quidditch, but, personally, Wooyoung doesn’t think he’d ever try to recruit San on a Quidditch team. Though he supposes that if the Slytherins are that desperate for a seventh member, it kind of makes sense. “What position?” he asks. 

“Seeker,” San grumbles as they enter the Divination classroom. 

Wooyoung actually does laugh this time, gaining the attention of a few of the students already in their seats. San’s hands curl into fists, and he holds them up in a silent threat although the Hufflepuff quickly waves him off. It’s not that he can’t see where Seonghwa is coming from. In another time, Wooyoung would probably encourage him to take up the offer. He’d been in the same class as San when they were first learning how to use their broomsticks for flight. He remembers the Slytherin’s apprehension as he stared at the broomstick the school provided for them. 

“These are for cleaning,” he had muttered under his breath to Wooyoung who had bit his lip to stifle his laughter. 

To be fair, San had been a fairly slow learner when it came to flying. He’d been unsteady and clearly afraid for the first couple of lessons, opting to just barely hover over the ground while most of the other students had quickly taken off, Wooyoung included. His learning curve had been steep though. For as scared as he initially seemed to be, once he had the hang of it, the Slytherin was quickly keeping up with the rest of them. 

So, really, Wooyoung can understand where Seonghwa is coming from. San was _good_ at flying, and he was quick and nimble, everything someone would want in a Seeker. However, there was one, glaringly obvious problem with Seonghwa’s plan, and the reason why Wooyoung is certain the Slytherin is avoiding the offer to join the Slytherin team. 

It took San a few lessons to gain the confidence to fly, but that confidence had been swiftly stripped from him only a handful of lessons in. A Ravenclaw girl had jinxed his broom during one session, and San had lost control of it, crashing into a tree. Honestly, Wooyoung had thought the whole prank was kind of funny until the teacher finally helped him down from the tree, and he saw just how pale the Slytherin was. He hasn’t touched a broom since. 

Hence the reason Wooyoung can’t help but laugh at the notion of San on the Quidditch team. “Why don’t you just tell him no?” he suggests. 

“I have!” San hisses, sliding into his usual seat in the back of the class. “He won’t leave me alone about it. Keeps saying I’d make a great Seeker.” 

He probably would, Wooyoung thinks, if he weren’t so terrified of flying. “Have you told him you won’t touch a broomstick?” 

“He thinks it’s just a fear I have to get over.” 

Wooyoung pats him on the shoulder sympathetically. “I mean, I get you. It’s hard to play Quidditch if you’re scared of flying and all.” He takes his seat next to San. “It would be nice though. For all the houses to have a team next year. That’s probably why he’s doing it. He’ll be a seventh year next year, and he hasn’t been on a team for years.” 

“Don’t guilt me,” San mutters. 

“I’m not trying to,” Wooyoung denies. “I’m just saying.” 

The Slytherin shakes his head. “Whatever. I don’t even really understand the game.” And why would he? He doesn’t play it, and he doesn’t watch it. “Plus we have O.W.Ls this year. I’m more worried about those.” 

“Oh, those will be fine,” Wooyoung answers confidently. 

San snorts at him. “Your marks say otherwise.” Wooyoung reaches over and smacks him on the chest in retaliation. 

  
  
  
  


Spring arrives and the O.W.Ls are looming ever closer. San tries his hardest to pay attention to the Potions professor who’s instructing them through the recipe for a Draught of Peace which he really thinks he could use between exam preparations and Seonghwa begging him to at least consider the possibility of joining the Slytherin Quidditch team. Unfortunately, he fails, staring blankly into his cauldron while the professor presses on with the lesson. Not that it really matters though because San is supposed to have his career counseling with the head of his house soon. 

Sure enough, San is soon dismissed from his class to have a meeting along with another boy whose name he blanks out on as he stands up from his seat. He does, however, bump into the other as they both head through the exit at the same time. 

San looks up at the figure he bumped into. He’s quite tall and, while they might be in the same class, he has no idea who he is. San doesn’t really have any friends in Potions though. His eyes stray downwards, and he shies away when he spies the scarlet and gold tie around the other’s neck. “Sorry,” he murmurs quietly as the Gryffindor sweeps by him. The other student doesn’t say anything to him as he walks past, and San makes a face at his back. 

The encounter quickly recedes to the back of his mind when he steps into the office of the current head of House Slytherin. Professor Delacroix is a stern woman who San goes out of his way to avoid interacting with. She replaced Professor Slughorn as the head of house some years ago. She turns when San enters the office, pointing to a chair. “Sit,” she commands. 

He scurries over without hesitation, perching himself on the edge of the chair as she finishes pouring herself a cup of tea. “Would you like some?” she offers him. 

“No, thank you, m’am.” San clears his throat awkwardly. This is supposed to be a very important meeting. Advice for what subjects he should focus on, particularly on his O.W.Ls so that he can score the job of his dreams. Only that’s the problem really. San doesn’t really have one. 

“Curious, you are,” she remarks, sipping at her teacup as she lowers herself down on the armchair across from San. Her posture is prim and proper. San tugs on his earlobe nervously. “It’s not often that Muggle born wizards end up in Slytherin.” She eyes him critically over the rim of her cup. To be completely honest, San is terrified of her, and he’s never really known if she hates him or not. 

“Well, here I am,” San murmurs, sinking into the chair in direct contrast to her. 

“So, where do you see yourself after Hogwarts?” she asks, staring at her tea like it’s more interesting than San. “What career goals do you have in mind?” 

None really, San thinks to himself, but he shrugs his shoulders for her. For him, attending Hogwarts was never really about a career in the wizarding world or becoming a wizard himself. Sure, he admits that magic is pretty cool, and it’s fun to impress Yeosang with little charms and trinkets even if he’s not supposed to. Mostly it was just to learn how to control his magic. He’d gotten himself in a few sticky situations as a child because of it, and the Headmaster had promised that his time here would help him control that. And it has, so San thinks he’s gotten everything he’s really wanted out of his time here. 

“I don’t know,” he answers when he really just wants to say that he’ll probably go home. 

She sighs at his response, setting her teacup down into its little saucer with a clink. “Honestly,” she sighs, “how you ended up in Slytherin is beyond me. No ambition whatsoever.” San shrugs. It’s not like _he_ chose this. “You have excellent marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts,” she notes. “Perhaps a job within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be suitable? If you focus on passing the O.W.L and N.E.W.T for this class, you might be able to get a foot in the door there. It is very important that you represent our house, after all.” 

San bites his tongue to hold in a biting remark about how much of a waste of time that feels like when his parents own a small restaurant back home and he is perfectly capable of just working there. With magic, of course. Instead he points out, “I also have really good marks in Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures.” 

“Indeed you do,” she agrees in a flat tone. “I suggest focusing your energies into your Defense Against the Dark Arts exams. The others will be...a nice addition, but I don’t think they should take priority.” 

“Yeah, sounds great,” San says with little enthusiasm. Their meeting ends like that, with San feeling like he’s really stuck in the same spot as always. 

  
  
  
  


Seonghwa sits next to him in the Great Hall a few days later during dinner. San is eating while splitting his time studying his textbook for the Care of Magical Creatures. He petulantly ignores his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, half determined to just fail that O.W.L outright just to spite the head of Slytherin. He peeks over to Seonghwa, lips pulled down into a frown when he spots the older Slytherin. Tentatively, he closes his textbook because he has a feeling that he knows why Seonghwa is here. 

“Have you thought about it?” the elder asks. 

“Listen…” San begins uneasily. “As much fun as it sounds to play Quidditch, these exams are kind of important for me.” All of that is a lie, of course. Playing Quidditch doesn’t exactly sound fun, and San could really care less about the O.W.Ls in terms of finding a career path, but it sounds believable. 

Seonghwa shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be this year,” he assures him. “It’s too late in the year for that. We’d start next term.” 

“Oh.” San sinks down into his seat, looking guilty. It’s not as if he doesn’t like Seonghwa. The upperclassmen has always treated him well and helped him out when he first got here. It’s precisely because of that that San feels like he owes him. However, there’s still the huge, glaringly obvious issue here. “Look, I’m not some kind of amazing Quidditch player in disguise. I’m a Muggle! I don’t even really like flying.” 

“You’re good at it though,” Seonghwa compliments him. “I’ve seen you. You’d be a great Seeker.” He smiles at San. “I think you’ll find you’d be great at it if you only gave it a shot.” 

San opens his mouth to say something though his words die on his lips. He hadn’t expected the compliment. Honestly, he doesn’t really understand why Seonghwa is so fixated on recruiting him for the team. San is scared of flying, and he barely understands the rules of Quidditch. At this point, he’s almost entirely certain that Wooyoung’s pet owl would make a better teammate than him. At least Winnie isn’t afraid of flying. At least, he thinks she’s not afraid of flying. 

“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I don’t think I’d be much help on your team.” 

“I’m not really asking for a star player,” Seonghwa tells him, fingers fiddling together on top of the table. “I’m just trying to reform the team. That’s all.” 

San stares at his food thoughtfully, twirling his fork between his fingers. “I don’t suppose I can at least try it before I commit?” he asks. 

Seonghwa grins at him. “I can arrange that.” 

  
  
  
  


A few days later, San finds himself trailing after the older Slytherin as he leads him into the open field next to the Quidditch stadium. He has two broomsticks in hand. San trails after him meekly, eyeing the stadium apprehensively. They’re not playing a match right now, are they? Seonghwa said he could arrange a casual practice match for them, but San isn’t quite ready for that _now_. He hasn’t even touched a broom in months. There’s no way he’s just going to jump on one for a practice match. 

But the older Slytherin comes to a halt, turning to hold out one of the brooms for San. He eyes it warily for a moment before he reluctantly takes it. “You said you didn’t fly much, so I figured we could just work on that for now. It’s important, especially for a Seeker.” 

San feels the need, again, to point out that if flying is so damn important _why_ recruit him? 

“Because,” Seonghwa says as if that’s an answer. The younger man watches as he mounts his broom, hovering over the ground. “I saw you during your flight lessons a couple of times. When you were a first year. You were really good. We actually thought about asking you to join the team at the time, but then you got injured, and the team kind of fell apart after anyways.” He smiles ruefully while San averts his gaze, staring at the broom in his hands. “You don’t have to look so scared.” 

“I _am_ scared,” San says as he slowly lifts a leg up to straddle the broom. Then he just stands there. 

“Why are you scared?” Seonghwa asks, drifting closer to his house mate. 

San stares at his broom, feeling as if a rock has settled into his stomach. “You know I’m a Muggle born, right?” he asks, looking up at Seonghwa. He knows the elder is a pure blood wizard. Most people in their house are, or they’re at least a half-blood. 

Seonghwa seems taken aback by the question, fingers gripping tightly around his broomstick. “I know,” he acknowledges. “I don’t see the problem though?” 

The younger boy sighs, shifting his weight around because he’s comfortable being on the ground and all. “I get it. I’m a wizard. Magic. Flying broomsticks and all that jazz, but my only _real_ experience with flying before I came here was on an airplane. Where I could kind of forget I was even flying because I was nice and insulated in a metal tube. This—” he looks down pointedly at his broom. “This is uncomfortable.” 

“You’ve been learning how to be a wizard for the past five years,” Seonghwa points out. “Don’t you think it’s time to start acting like one?” 

San frowns. It’s not that Seonghwa is being particularly hard on him. It’s that he kind of has a point, and San hates that. Pressing his lips into a thin line, San bends his knees up, wobbling slightly as he mimics the elder’s position. He feels a jolt of both thrill and nausea when he lifts off the ground. He’s really avoided this for a while, and he feels like a newborn fawn trying to learn how to walk. 

“There you go,” Seonghwa encourages him. “Now come on. Let’s go for a ride.” He pulls himself higher in the air, pausing to wait for San who stays exactly where he is, clinging to his broomstick. He raises his brows when the younger boy shakes his head stubbornly and stays put—just a few inches from the ground. 

“San, you can’t fly properly like that.” 

“I’m flying just _fine_ , thank you,” he snaps back. He’s off the ground after all. Good enough. 

“You’re not going to catch the Snitch if you just hover over the ground like that,” Seonghwa points out. 

San laughs, peering up at the older boy. “Well then, that’s your fault for recruiting me, isn’t it? I _told_ you I’d make a bad teammate.” 

Rolling his eyes, Seonghwa lowers himself back down until he’s level with San’s broom. “What are you actually afraid of?” he asks, cocking his head. 

San pales at the question, glancing out over the field. “Alright, you want to know the truth? The last time I flew a broom I crashed into a tree and got stuck for a while. I’ve been terrified since.” He shakes his head anxiously. “I can’t do this.” 

“You can do this,” Seonghwa encourages before San can even attempt to dismount. The younger Slytherin sighs, pressing his forehead against the broomstick. “Look,” he motions out to the field that they’re on, “there are no trees in sight, and there won’t be any on the field either. Besides, we can work on your maneuverability _after_ we get you comfortable on a broom again.” 

San lifts his head up to glance out at the field. “This is just worse,” he grumbles pessimistically. “What if I fall and then there are no trees to catch me? I could die!” 

“You’re not going to die!” Seonghwa exclaims, a little exasperated by San’s antics. 

“I could!” he insists. “If I fall from a high enough height—” 

“There’s no reason you should just fall off your broomstick,” Seonghwa scolds him. “And even if you did, I’m right here. I wouldn’t let you get hurt.” San quivers a little, still uncertain. “San, I don’t care if you’re a Muggle. You’re a wizard. This is in your blood.” 

With a determined huff, San rights himself on the broom. “Okay, okay,” he concedes, knuckles white from the grip around his broomstick. “Just—can we go slow?” 

Seonghwa nods his head. “We can go as slow as you need.” 

They spend the next hour going almost painfully slow. Seonghwa flies around in circles, watching San like a mother bird as the younger Slytherin works his way up in altitude, mostly just floating stationary as he slowly lifts himself up to match Seonghwa’s altitude. He notes, with some amusement, how the younger refuses to look down. Seonghwa understands. He also has a fear of heights, though he’s learned to get past it when he’s flying. When he’s flying he’s in control. He says as much to San who nods his head curtly but doesn’t look like he believes him. 

Eventually, San begins more or less floating around. It’s progress. Seonghwa tries not to let his frustrations show. He _knows_ the younger boy has more talent than this. He asks how San is feeling after he’s done floating around for a few minutes. 

“I’m...okay,” he responds, pointedly looking over to the skyline as Seonghwa comes to a stop beside him. 

“Think you’re ready to actually fly now?” the elder asks. 

San glances over to him. “Sure. Don’t expect anything to fancy though.” 

“I wasn’t asking for that,” Seonghwa points out. 

With slightly jerky movements, San pushes himself to actually fly. It’s not anything amazing. It’s just a leisurely fly—nothing like the speedster Seonghwa remembers spying once when he’d been walking to his next class. But at least he’s flying, Seonghwa thinks. They can work on building his speed after he’s gotten his confidence back. 

They’re both satisfied with San’s progress by the end. Seonghwa is pleased that San seems to be comfortable on his broom again, and San is just happy he didn’t fall. He supposes he feels a little bit better about flying too. “How do you feel?” Seonghwa asks after they land. 

San holds the broomstick to his chest, a smile plastered on his face. “Good,” he answers. “That was...fun.” 

Seonghwa pats him on the back as they make their way back towards the school. “I’m glad. I told you, you would be fine. You’ll get the hang of it again in no time.” 

San breathes a sigh of relief, keeping pace with the elder as they walk past the Quidditch pitch. He notices a figure standing by the entrance, watching them, and the Slytherin hunches down as he shoots furtive glances at the stranger. Was he watching them? He’s got a broom in one hand and his head is tilted to the side as he watches the two Slytherins approach. The hairs on the back of his neck raise when San notices the Gryffindor colors on his uniform.

“Aren’t you a fifth year?” he asks, looking at San when they draw close enough. 

San presses his lips together, wondering how he knows. “Yeah. So?” 

The Gryffindor shakes his head. “Why are you flying on your broom like a newborn babe?” he asks. 

San bites down on his inner cheek. So he _was_ watching them. And now he’s judging him too! San shoots Seonghwa an annoyed look when the elder pats him on the head reassuringly. “He doesn’t fly much, Yunho. Cut him some slack.” 

_Yeah, Yunho_ , San sneers mentally. The Gryffindor only looks more befuddled. “He’s a wizard. Why does he need any slack?” he mutters with a shake of his head before turning towards the Quidditch field. 

San glares at his back as he goes. He can spot some more people in the center of the field—probably his teammates. San honestly might have stood there and glared at him for the rest of the day if not for Seonghwa guiding him back towards the school with a hand between his shoulder blades. “You know him?” San asks when he’s sure the Gryffindor is out of ear shot. 

“Um, not personally, no.” Seonghwa drops his hand back to his side. “I only know of him because he’s on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He’s a fifth year like you. He’s Gryffindor’s Keeper.” 

San takes a minute to think through what a Keeper is. Really, it only takes a minute because he’s kind of hung up on how rude Yunho had been. “Well, he’s a dick.” 

Seonghwa smiles sheepishly. “I’ve actually heard he’s quite nice,” he says, averting his gaze when San glares at him. “Well, that’s just what I’ve heard. I guess he didn’t have to say anything to you. I don’t think he was trying to be rude though.” 

“He was,” San mumbles petulantly. “Hey, Beaters are the ones who get the chuck balls at other players, right?” 

Seonghwa knits his brows together at the question. “Yes. Why?” 

The younger boy glances back at the Quidditch pitch, feeling his petty grudge deepen. “Can’t I be one of those instead? I’d love to just chuck one of those Bludgers at him.” 

Sighing, Seonghwa turns San’s attention away from the Quidditch pitch. “No,” he says firmly. “Bludgers aren’t exactly cooperative, and we already have two Beaters.” 

“Damn,” San sighs. How disappointing. 

“Don’t take what he said to heart,” Seonghwa tells him, rubbing San’s arm comfortingly. “We can move at your pace, not his.” 

“Okay,” the younger agrees in a soft voice. He glances over to Seonghwa, an appreciative smile on his face. “Thanks.” 

  
  
  
  


The next time they go to practice San’s flying, Wooyoung tags along. The Hufflepuff insists that he has to see this. He hasn’t seen San willingly touch a broom in so long. “We can play a game of tag,” he suggests, his own broom tucked underneath his arm as he skips alongside the two Slytherins. 

“I don’t know about the sound of that,” San remarks, biting his bottom lip nervously. 

“It’ll teach you how to fly fast and avoid other people,” Wooyoung argues. “All very good skills in Quidditch. At least for a Seeker.” 

“Yeah, well, what if you smack me off my broom?” 

The Hufflepuff smiles at him. “Then you’ll learn not to get tagged by me again.” San scowls at him, reaching over to pinch him on the arm. Wooyoung squeals in pain, jumping a few steps away from him. 

“Right now we’re trying to build his confidence on the broom, not destroy it. Again,” Seonghwa says. 

Wooyoung huffs because that doesn’t sound nearly as fun as a game of tag. “Fine,” he agrees anyways. He figures that Seonghwa has a point. If San learns to start flying again, they’ll have plenty of opportunities to dick around eventually. “A Ravenclaw jinxes his broom once, and he practically pees himself whenever he sees one now,” he mutters under his breath before yelping when San digs his elbow into his ribcage. 

Seonghwa turns on them suddenly, staring at the Hufflepuff who comes to an abrupt halt before he runs into the older boy. “What did you say?” he demands. Wooyoung stares at him, a bit frightened. “You said someone jinxed his broom?” 

Wooyoung swallows and glances towards San. “Y-yeah,” he stutters. “During one of our flying lessons. He lost control of the broom because of the jinx and went flying into a tree.” 

“Who?” Seonghwa asks, looking over to San. “Who did that to you?” The younger boy shrugs his shoulders. He never knew. 

“Just some girl from Ravenclaw,” Wooyoung squeaks when the elder Slytherin turns his attention back to him. “I think her name is Chaeyoung? I never really talked to her. It was just a little prank though, and it happened years ago now.” 

Sighing, Seonghwa draws back from the Hufflepuff. He supposes Wooyoung has a point there. “Well, it clearly wasn’t a very funny prank.” His gaze slides over to San who nervously twirls his broom in his hands. 

This time it isn’t so hard to coax San into flying. He does so easily, though still hesitant under Seonghwa’s hawkish eyes while Wooyoung gleefully zooms around him. The Hufflepuff _does_ convince San to play a short game of tag by the end of their session under the agreement that Seonghwa would keep on eye on them on the off chance that San fell.

He doesn’t. In fact, the game is almost painfully one sided for a while with Wooyoung far outpacing the Slytherin while goading him to at least try to catch him. Seonghwa watches them play with some apprehension. Yunho hadn’t necessarily been wrong in his description of San’s flying abilities, and Seonghwa briefly wonders if he made a mistake in trying to push the younger boy to get back on a broom for Quidditch. However, his concern soon turns to interest as he watches San slowly start to pick up his pace. Wooyoung actually has to try to fly away from him now. 

San manages to tag Wooyoung eventually, smacking the Hufflepuff on the shoulder hard enough that he actually rolls in the air, righting himself with a flail of his legs. “Come catch me, badger!” San taunts him. 

It’s an impressive feat how San manages to zig zag his way around Wooyoung, just barely allowing the Hufflepuff a window of room before he abruptly changes directions. It’s how he remembers San flying with a little less finesse—though he’s sure that, too, will return with time. Seonghwa is actually grateful for the Hufflepuff’s suggestion now. He doesn’t think San would be flying like this at all if not for the single-minded focus on _winning_ a game of tag. 

“I think that’s enough,” Seonghwa calls out for them after Wooyoung nearly crashes head first into the ground when San makes a sharp turn. The Slytherin also went barreling through the air, and now he’s clinging to his broom, face white as he finally seems to realize what he’s been doing. Yeah, that’s definitely enough for today. 

“No fair!” Wooyoung exclaims. “You just don’t want him to lose!” 

“It looked like a tie to me,” Seonghwa says dismissively, lowering himself back to the ground. San comes to him easily enough, but Wooyoung pouts before reluctantly following suit. 

He holds his hand out to his friend when he lands. “It’s a tie,” he says, and San shakes on it. 

Seonghwa smiles at the fifth years before turning to lead them back towards the school. “I think we should focus on your techniques next,” he comments as they pass by the Quidditch pitch. He notes with some amusement how San eyes the field with distaste, eyes scanning the perimeter but there isn’t anyone around this time. Still, it’s quite funny. “We should do an obstacle course.” 

San snaps his attention back to him, blinking at the suggestion. Wooyoung perks up, draping himself over San’s shoulders. “Oh, that sounds like fun,” he says, squeezing the Slytherin’s shoulders. “Hey, let me know when you’re going to do that. We can make it a race.” 

“Why do we have to make it a race?” San complains, shrugging Wooyoung off of him. 

“Because,” the Hufflepuff grins at him, “you do much better when we make it a competition.” 

“I do _not_.” 

“I think it’s a good idea,” Seonghwa agrees. He hadn’t thought about that before, but Wooyoung brings up a good point. San did seem to excel when he viewed something as a competition—and likewise failed when he didn’t. “I think Ravenclaw has the pitch for practice tomorrow, but it should be free the day after. We’ll meet again in two days.” 

Wooyoung cheers. “Sounds great. I’ll think of a good prize for the two of us, okay?” he says to San who only grumbles that he really doesn’t care either way. 

  
  
  
  


Two days later, Seonghwa meets San and Wooyoung on the Quidditch pitch. The two of them are already squabbling about something with brooms in hand. He sighs as he approaches them. “What are you two fighting about?” he asks when he’s close enough that they can hear. 

“San doesn’t like my idea for a prize,” Wooyoung pouts. 

“Because it’s stupid!” 

Seonghwa quirks an eyebrow as they quickly devolve into _another_ argument about it. Wooyoung insisting that it’s a perfectly good prize, and that San should look at it as an incentive while San adamantly denies that it’s neither of those things. “What is it?” Seonghwa asks curiously. 

“Winner gets to go on a date with Yeosang during summer break!” Wooyoung declares proudly, holding a hand up in the air like he intends to collect on the prize right here and now. 

San groans loudly, turning his attention to Seonghwa. “Let’s just get this over with,” he pleads to the elder. 

He stifles a laugh but obliges, eyes turning up towards the hoops on either side of the field. He doesn’t know who Yeosang is, but clearly only Wooyoung is enthusiastic about the notion of winning a date with him. “What would you like if you win?” he asks San when he’s done thinking up a course in his head. 

San seems to think about it for a moment, sneaking glances at his friend. “For him to shut up?” he suggests, nodding towards the Hufflepuff who looks affronted by the fact that _that’s_ his request. 

“Deal,” Seonghwa agrees easily before hopping onto his broom. “Let me show you the course you’ll fly through. Winner will be chosen based on who finishes it with a faster time.” Both of them watch Seonghwa intently as he stops himself near the ground right at center field. “Watch carefully,” he calls back to them before flying up towards the hoops on one side of the field. He weaves between the three of them before looping around in a semi circle to fly across to the other side to repeat the motion. 

There’s nothing too complicated about it really. There can’t be given the limited obstacles there are, but there aren’t any real better options for teaching San. Plus there’s the fact that San will be playing on this field anyways, and there aren’t too many obstacles he needs to worry about besides the other players and various balls in play. He lands back in front of the two fifth years. “Timer ends when you cross center field again,” he says, pointing towards the midline denoting center field. 

“Easy enough,” San mutters. 

“Do you want to go first or should I?” Wooyoung asks. The two of them start another heated discussion where they try to decide who should go first when another group of students enter onto the field. Seonghwa startles at the sight of them. They’re all dressed up in their practice gear and everything, and Seonghwa realizes with a slight delay that it’s the Hufflepuff team. 

“The pitch is supposed to be free today,” he says, hurriedly approaching the team. He ignores the sound of San and Wooyoung bickering amongst themselves in favor of addressing this new issue. 

A girl pushes her way to the front, and Seonghwa stops short when he recognizes the team captain. “It was,” Momo says, looking at Seonghwa before glancing over his shoulder towards San and Wooyoung. She at least looks a little sympathetic. “I’ll have to ask you guys to leave unless you want to watch our practice.” 

Frowning, Seonghwa refuses to back down that easily. “It’s free today,” he reiterates. “And we were already here. You can share it with us, but you’re not just going to kick us out.” 

Sighing, Momo pulls her wand from her pocket, waving it once with a flick of her wrist. A small piece of paper emerges from her backpack, floating towards Seonghwa who snatches it up as soon as it’s within reach. It’s an invitation for a practice match between the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. He frowns when he sees that, indeed, the Gryffindor team signed up for the pitch. 

“That—” sucks, Seonghwa thinks though he doesn’t finish the thought. 

Momo ignores him, brushing by him to approach Wooyoung. “Hey, Jung Wooyoung. Get your snake friends off the field. We have practice!” 

Wooyoung jumps at the sound of her voice, eyes flying between her and the two Slytherins. He doesn’t move from his spot or make a peep. San shoots his friend a look, but the Hufflepuff shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. What’s he supposed to do? He’s not on the team, and Momo is his senior. Still, both the fifth years look reluctant to leave, playing with the shaft of their broom as they loiter on the field. Seonghwa is the one who gathers them up, herding them towards the exit. She could have just asked him this whole time. On the way out, they run into Gryffindor’s team. San’s jaw clenches though he keeps his gaze fixed ahead of him as they walk by. At least until one of them speaks. 

“Whoa, no way. I heard Slytherin was trying to put together a Quidditch team again next year,” one of them snickers. To his credit, San only tenses up. Seonghwa himself also bites down on his tongue, stopping himself from making any kind of remark on the matter. As it stands right now, they still don’t have a team anyways. 

“They’re not,” someone else says, and this time San can’t help but react. He twists his way out of Seonghwa’s grip. His body is all coiled tight like a spring ready to leap into action at any second. He recognizes that voice, eyes easily finding the Gryffindor’s Keeper—Yunho. He towers over most of his teammates, but he’s also the only one San can recognize. He meets the Slytherin’s eyes for a moment before he turns back to his teammate. “He’s just trying to teach a fifth year how to fly.” 

The team breaks out into a fit of laughter, and Seonghwa has no doubt that San would start a fight right here if he were able to. He can tell in the way the younger boy tries to fight him off when Seonghwa keeps him approaching the Gryffindor team and the way he reaches for his wand. “Don’t,” he warns the younger, hissing the warning into the ear. It’ll only give them more fuel. 

“I hate him,” San says when the Gryffindor team is out of sight, and he finally calms down somewhat. 

Seonghwa opens his mouth to say something, but Wooyoung beats him to it. “Everyone does,” the Hufflepuff assures him as he tugs on the back of San’s robes. “They’re the best team at school.” 

“Forget the team. Their Keeper is a nosy asshole.” San shrugs the Hufflepuff off of him, stomping off with more fanfare than strictly necessary. Seonghwa sighs as he allows the younger boy to storm off, hoping that it doesn’t discourage him. 

  
  
  
  


Hongjoong nearly drops the Advanced Potions book he just grabbed from the library shelf when he turns around only to come face to face with Seonghwa. With a little gasp, he stumbles back into the bookshelf, wincing when the old books and tomes shake precariously on it. When everything settles, he releases the breath he’s been holding and glares at the Slytherin. “Some warning next time would be nice,” he growls out. 

Seonghwa doesn’t look apologetic, but he does seem sheepish especially when Hongjoong glances around them warily. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

Hongjoong tenses up, eyes finally settling on Seonghwa. “Nothing,” he practically squeaks out, holding the book he’d come for to his chest. Still, he looks around again even though no one else is around. 

Expression dark, Seonghwa pulls away from him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seriously?” he asks in a strained voice. 

Hongjoong winces, guilt bubbling up from his stomach into his chest, but he refuses to apologize. It’s not as if he’s embarrassed by Seonghwa, he tells himself. It’s not that. They’re friends—close friends, actually—and Hongjoong isn’t bothered by the fact that Seonghwa’s a Slytherin. He’s not. It’s just about being cautious because a lot of other students are bothered by the fact that he’s a Slytherin. 

Clearing his throat, Hongjoong forces himself to relax as he tries to change the subject. “Did you need something?” 

Seonghwa doesn’t usually seek him out so suddenly like this because they have a sort of silent agreement that they simply plan out their meetings in order to avoid, well, being seen together. The Ravenclaw fiddles with his book when Seonghwa takes a step back to stare at him. The Slytherin looks like he regrets seeking him out. Hongjoong doesn’t know how he feels about that. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally apologizes, looking down at his book. 

“Six years you’ve been like this,” Seonghwa remarks, his tone sharp. The Ravenclaw hunches his shoulders, looking away in shame. “Listen, if you don’t want to be friends—” 

“It’s not that!” The Ravenclaw denies before he can even finish the sentence. This is a conversation the two of them have more frequently than is probably healthy. They’ve been friends since before they even started going to school; they became close when Seonghwa first moved near Hongjoong’s family manor, barely able to converse in English, but his parents determined for him to become a student at Hogwarts. It was probably difficult to tell, though, considering how little they tended to interact with each other on school grounds. 

Seonghwa is rarely even able to sit near him in their classes even though they’ve since diverged in their studies after the O.W.L exams. Hongjoong always said that it’s because one of his housemates usually takes it first, but Seonghwa suspects it’s just an excuse. Hongjoong knows he’s putting a strain on their friendship. There’s really no reason for it, he acknowledges. They were friends before. Their houses shouldn’t mean anything, and yet it does. 

“You always say that, and I always forgive you.” Seonghwa sighs, hands on his hips like he doesn’t know what that keeps happening. 

“Seonghwa, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Hongjoong whines. People know, of course, that they’re friends. Or at least amicable with each other. Although, to be fair, Hongjoong doesn’t think anyone knows exactly how close they are. Maybe that’s the problem. 

“You never do, but it never stops hurting either,” Seonghwa says. 

The Ravenclaw reaches out to grab him by the wrist, book tumbling to the floor in the process, and he tugs on his arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, holding the other boy in place when the Slytherin tries to pull out of his grasp. “How can I make it up to you?” 

“Well, you could start by deciding whether or not we’re actually friends.” Seonghwa tries to tug his arm away from Hongjoong, but the Ravenclaw clings to him. 

“We are,” he declares without missing a beat. Seonghwa presses his lips together in a thin line, annoyed with himself because this is precisely _why_ they’re constantly going back and forth between having a truce and squabbling amongst themselves. “I promise we are,” he bites his lip, looking down at the abandoned book on the floor. “I guess I just still have some bad habits I haven’t quite kicked yet.” 

Sighing, Seonghwa bends down, reaching out with his free hand to pick up the book Hongjoong had dropped. Then he straightens up and holds it out for the Ravenclaw who finally releases the hold on his arm to take the offering. “Try not to be too embarrassed by me,” he teases, though his words aren’t altogether joking. Hongjoong picks up on it because he doesn’t laugh, just nods his head with a grim expression. 

“Is there something that you needed?” Hongjoong asks again, aware that the Slytherin must have a reason for seeking him out. 

“Yes,” Seonghwa acknowledges, taking a step back from his friend. “I wanted to ask for a favor.” 

“Potions?” Hongjoong asks, head tilting to the side. Seonghwa wasn’t very good at potion brewing. His talents laid more in the realm of Transfigurations, so he often sought out Hongjoong if he needed a potion—particularly in preparation for a test. 

The Slytherin shakes his head. “Actually, no,” he responds. “I found someone who might be willing to join our Quidditch team as a Seeker, but he wanted to play a practice match before committing. I was wondering if you could help me set one up with your house. You’re friends with the captain of the Ravenclaw team, right?” 

Hongjoong hesitates. He hadn’t expected Seonghwa to ask him for something like this. “Well, yeah.” He hugs the Potions book to his chest. It’s not a ridiculous request necessarily, but he’s not sure if he can arrange it exactly. “Why our team?” 

“Well,” Seonghwa rubes the back of his neck, “I don’t really know anyone in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff to ask. Besides, we’re looking for a casual match. He’s...new. I don’t even think he has all the rules down yet.” Seonghwa had explained the rules of the game to San a couple weeks ago now, with emphasis on his job as a Seeker. He’d also left him with a rule book to look over if he had any more questions though he’s fairly certain San hasn’t even peeked at it yet. “The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams are pretty competitive—not that Ravenclaw isn’t a competitive team. They’re good.” They’re trailing last behind the other three houses, but not because they’re bad by any means. In general the house just didn’t seem to care as much for the competition, rather they just enjoyed playing it. 

It seemed like the ideal team to pit San against for his first match. 

“I just figured they probably wouldn’t take a practice match with us too seriously.” 

Hongjoong perks up at his words. “You managed to reform the Slytherin team?” he asks. He still remembers how much Seonghwa had enjoyed the game their first couple of years here. Hongjoong himself wasn’t much of an athlete, but he’d gone to the matches Seonghwa had played to cheer his friend on. The Slytherin had been pretty bummed when the team fell off though, unable to garner the required number of players to keep it going. 

Earlier this year the Slytherin mentioned the possibility that he might be able to put together a team for his last year. He’d gotten a few people to consider it but had been missing a Seeker up until that point. He must have found someone then. Hongjoong can’t help but to feel hopeful. He knows how much Seonghwa has missed playing. 

“Maybe,” Seonghwa confirms vaguely. “The kid I asked isn’t exactly crazy about the idea of being on a Quidditch team. That’s why I was hoping you might help me set up a friendly match.” 

“I can try,” the Ravenclaw tells him, “but it’s not like I have a lot of influence with their captain.” They’re not even really that close, just amicable because they’re both in the same house. Still, he agrees that he’ll talk to him, see if he can make this happen. “No promises though,” he warns, but Seonghwa shrugs him off, wrapping the short Ravenclaw into a hug. He seems to have completely forgotten about the earlier tension between them, and Hongjoong breathes a sigh of relief because of it. 

  
  
  
  


Yunho can’t help but knit his eyebrows together in concern when Hongjoong sighs for the nth time during one of their tutoring sessions. “Is everything okay?” he finally asks, unable to take it anymore, especially when Hongjoong takes a deep breath in preparation for another sigh. 

The Ravenclaw blinks, looking up at Yunho. The Gryffindor is sitting across from him, his Defense Against the Dark Arts book open in front of him. “Everything’s fine,” Hongjoong assures him. “Why do you ask?” The Gryffindor is an acquaintance he met through their parents. Yunho, while not a horrible student, doesn’t really excel at any particular subjects. His marks are painfully average across the board except in DADA where he seems to be straddling the line between average and below average. 

Hongjoong thinks it’s fine considering his ambition to enter into a pro-Quidditch team after graduating. Yunho’s parents hadn’t seemed to agree with the sentiment, especially his father who didn’t seem to think the career was too stable, or a guarantee for that matter. In order to pursue it, Yunho agreed that he would maintain his studies at an acceptable grade. His father hired Hongjoong, the son of his friends, to tutor him, particularly as he’s preparing to take the O.W.Ls this year. 

He’s supposed to be helping Yunho study for DADA right now, in fact, but the Ravenclaw is clearly falling behind on that chore. To be fair, it’s not exactly a subject Hongjoong excels at either. “You keep sighing,” Yunho points out, quirking an eyebrow up when, as if on queue, Hongjoong sighs again. 

The Ravenclaw jolts when he realizes that Yunho has a point. “Oh. Sorry.” 

The fifth year shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize. I was just wondering if everything is alright.” 

“Yes,” Hongjoong answers as he straightens up in his seat and leans over the table to peak at Yunho’s work. “Yeah, everything is fine. It’s nothing important.” 

Yunho sets his quill down, interest piqued by his words. “So there is something?” he questions. 

Hongjoong looks up at the question. “Huh?” 

“What’s wrong?” Yunho presses. 

The Ravenclaw shakes his head, settling back down into his seat. “Nothing,” he repeats, fingers tapping on the table. Yunho tilts his head to the side, arms folded on top of his books. The Ravenclaw hangs his head in defeat. Clearly Yunho isn’t all that eager to work on his studies, and Hongjoong isn’t quite in the right state of mind to nag him into studying. “I’m just trying to do something for a friend. It’s not really going my way though.” 

“Oh.” Yunho frowns, expression thoughtful. “Anything I can help you with?” 

“No.” Hongjoong reaches out to tap Yunho’s book with his finger, trying to draw the Gryffindor’s attention back to his work. He is being paid after all. He could at least try to do his job. Pouting, the younger reluctantly picks up his quill and starts working on his studies again. Unfortunately, their productivity only lasts for a few minutes before Hongjoong sighs again. To be fair, he’s been consumed by thoughts of how to fulfill his favor for Seonghwa. He tried to talk to their Quidditch team’s captain, but he hadn’t been interested at all in participating in a practice match against Slytherin. 

“It’d be a waste of time when we could just scrim against Gryffindor or Hufflepuff,” he said. Despite Hongjoong’s best attempt to convince him otherwise, he wouldn’t have it. He’s been thinking about what to do since. 

Yunho sets down his quill again. “What is it?” he persists. 

“It’s nothing!” Hongjoong insists, running his fingers through his hair. Then he groans, tilting his head back as the frustration hits him full force. “I just—I have a friend.” Yunho blinks at him, and the Ravenclaw hesitates to elaborate. “In, uh, Slytherin.” 

“Okay,” Yunho says slowly. Clearly he has no idea where this is going. 

“Well, the thing is he managed to put together a potential Quidditch team for next year, but I think a lot of the members are new since they haven’t had a team for awhile.” Yunho licks his lips. So Jongho hadn’t been wrong about that rumor he heard. “They were looking for a friendly practice match, so I said I would try to arrange one with our team, but our captain isn’t interested.” 

“Ravenclaw doesn’t want to have a match with them?” he clarifies. Presses his lips together, Hongjoong nods his head in confirmation. “But they’re looking to have a match?” 

Hongjoong shrugs his shoulders. “It’s too late in the year for them to form the team officially. I think they’re just looking to get a feel for how the team will work together.” 

Yunho cups his chin thoughtfully before he proposes, “We can do it.” 

The elder startles at the suggestion, staring at Yunho in shock. “What?” he finally blubbers out. 

“We can do it,” the Gryffindor repeats. “I don’t think anyone on the team would mind. I’m pretty sure I can get our captain to agree with it, so if they’re looking for a team to scrim again, we can do it.” 

“Oh, well—” Hongjoong looks flustered. He hadn’t been expecting the young Gryffindor to offer his team up like that. Plus there was the fact that Seonghwa seemed specifically interested in playing Ravenclaw, and, honestly, Hongjoong doesn’t blame him. Swallowing, he eyes Yunho with some apprehension. As a new team he wouldn’t want to play against Yunho or his team either. 

“That’s what they want, right?” Yunho clarifies. “So we’re good, yeah? I’ll ask my captain, and we’ll set up a date.” 

“O-oh. Yeah, that sounds great,” Hongjoong laughs nervously, unable to tell Yunho that it was fine. He didn’t need to volunteer, and the Slytherin team probably didn’t want to play against them anyways, but Yunho already seemed to have it set. Hongjoong doesn’t protest. It’s a practice match either way, right? “I’ll let my friend know.” 

  
  
  
  
  


For once Hongjoong seeks out Seonghwa only a few days later. He finds the Slytherin out in the courtyard, speaking with another boy from his house and a Hufflepuff that he doesn’t recognize. They’re both sitting on a bench while Seonghwa stands in front of him, waving his wand around as he explains something. Hesitating, Hongjoong sucks in a sharp breath before he marches over to the group, nerves singing with anxiety when a couple students glance in his direction before continuing on their way. He tells himself not to think about it. 

“Seonghwa,” he calls in a softer voice than he intends because he doesn’t want to draw any attention to them, clearing his throat awkwardly. Seonghwa looks over to him, surprised when the Ravenclaw strides up to him. Hongjoong tries to press down on the feelings of guilt. There’s no reason his actions should be considered shocking. 

“Hey,” his friend greets. Hongjoong tilts his head in acknowledgement, eyes straying over to the other two boys who are staring at him curiously. Noticing his curiosity, Seonghwa steps in to introduce everyone. “This is San,” he says, placing a hand on the other Slytherin’s shoulder. “He’s the one who’s....thinking about being our Seeker.” Hongjoong eyes the younger Slytherin like he can determine if he’d make a good Seeker or not. He can’t to be completely fair, and San shoots him an odd look for his efforts. Then Seonghwa motions to the Hufflepuff beside him, “That’s Wooyoung. They’re friends.” 

“Oh.” Hongjoong’s eyes dart between the two of them. A Hufflepuff and a Slytherin seem like an unlikely duo, but neither of them deny it. In fact, the Slytherin drapes an arm around his friend’s shoulders as if to drive Seonghwa’s point home, and the Ravenclaw spies the Hufflepuff wrapping an arm around San’s waist in return. Hongjoong tries not to feel too envious that these two seem to proudly get along. “Uh, I needed to tell you something,” he says, tearing his gaze away from the two fifth years to address Seonghwa. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, lowering his wand down as his expression quickly morphs into a concerned one. 

“It’s about that practice match you wanted.” 

Seonghwa brightens at the reminder. “Oh, yeah. Were you able to do it? Did they agree?” 

“Not exactly,” Hongjoong laughs nervously. The Slytherin tilts his head to the side, indicating that he’s listening. “So, uh, our team wasn’t really interested in a practice match, but I found a team who would be willing to play a match with you.” He fiddles with the robes of his uniform. “They reserved the Quidditch pitch a few days from now for it.” 

“Great!” Seonghwa knits his eyebrows together in confusion though, sparing a glance towards San who seems unbothered by the whole thing. “With who?” 

Hongjoong twists his fingers into his robes. “Well, that’s the thing,” he trails off, avoiding Seonghwa’s curious gaze. “The Gryffindor team kind of offered to play against you.” 

Seonghwa blanches at the revelation. “Gryffindor’s team?” he repeats, hoping he misheard, but the Ravenclaw nods his head in confirmation. Anxiously, Seonghwa turns his attention to San, but the younger boy doesn’t seem all that worried by the notion. His expression is oddly blank, though the Hufflepuff next to him has his lips parted in shock. 

“I can let them know if you don’t want to play,” Hongjoong adds hastily. 

“We can play,” San says before Seonghwa can answer, looking up at the elder Slytherin pointedly. “It’s just a practice match, right? No pressure.” 

“They’re the best team right now though,” Wooyoung points out, nudging his friend in the side. “Are you sure you want to play against them?” 

San crosses his arms over his chest, grinning at his friend. “It’s not as if I think we’re going to beat them. I just figure we can make it as difficult for them as possible if they think this is just an easy match.” Wooyoung snorts at his plan, shaking his head in disbelief. “If we’re going to lose, I’m going to make it as hard for them as possible,” San declares confidently. 

“That’s not really how that works…” Seonghwa protests though his words fall on deaf ears. 

“I’m okay with it if you are,” San says, peeking up at Seonghwa. 

He hesitates, looking down at San. The circumstances aren’t ideal, but he promised the younger Slytherin a practice game before he committed. “Okay. We’ll play.” 

  
  
  
  


Despite his previous confidence, San admits that he’s nervous on the day of the match. There’s definitely a difference between claiming that he’ll make the win as difficult as possible and actually doing it. His doubts only intensify when the Gryffindor’s captain walks up to their team with a smile on his face. Normally, San might have thought the smile friendly, but on this guy he only finds the expression suspicious. 

“Let’s have a good game,” he says to Seonghwa, his smile still in place. 

Seonghwa finishes pulling on his gloves and tentatively returns the other captain’s smile. “Thanks, Jaehyun.” 

San narrows his eyes at the Gryffindor’s captain, hugging his knees to his chest. He’d plopped himself on the ground as soon as he finished putting on his gear and hadn't been able to move himself from the position. The captain—Jaehyun—continues smiling, eyes scanning over the rest of the Slytherin team. San averts his gaze when he looks at him, his eyes straying towards the Gryffindor team. They’re all huddled together, broomsticks in hand. San feels a bout of nausea wash through him as his stomach twists in knots. He regrets his earlier boast now. All he wants to do is go back to the dormitories and hide under his blanket. He’s not ready for this.

“Whenever you guys are ready,” Jaehyun says to Seonghwa before he leaves to go back to his team. 

The elder’s shoulders slump and he turns back to his own team, eyes searching out San’s. The fifth year bites his lip. “I’m not going to catch it,” he says. 

“Don’t say it until you’ve tried,” Seonghwa chides him, patting him on the head. He bends down until he’s eye level with San, lips pressed together as he glances over the field towards Gryffindor’s team. Hongjoong is loitering in the middle of the field, examining the different balls that he agreed to put into play for them. They don’t really need a referee, but they do need a neutral party to at least start the game. “It’s okay if you don’t, just try. We’re doing this for practice, okay?” 

“Honestly the only thing I’m thinking about is not crashing into anything,” San tells him, staring at the opposing team. He spots Yunho easily enough—Gryffindor’s Keeper all geared up and ready to go. His fingers curl into a fist. The last thing he wants is to crash during this match and give the other even more fuel to make fun of him. 

“Hey,” Seonghwa calls for him, snapping his fingers in front of San’s face. The younger boy tears his gaze away from the Gryffindor team to look at him. “Stop thinking about their Keeper,” he scolds as if he read San’s mind. He flushes, casting his eyes to the ground. “If all you do is focus on _not_ crashing that’s fine. Your job is to catch the Golden Snitch before their Seeker. Not crashing is a good way to better your chances, alright?” 

San nods his head in understanding, grateful that Seonghwa isn’t putting pressure on him to win this match. That, at least, calms his nerves a little. The elder Slytherin glances towards the other team for a brief moment before turning back to San. “There is one thing, though,” he murmurs, eyes straying back to the Gryffindor team again. San follows his gaze though he isn’t sure if Seonghwa is looking at any particular person. “The Beater, next to their Keeper, do you see him?” San spies the boy he’s pretty sure Seonghwa is referring to, a boy holding onto a bat with his left hand as he talks animatedly to Yunho. He nods his head before looking back to Seonghwa questioningly. “Be careful of him,” Seonghwa warns. 

San audibly gulps. “Why?” he croaks, suddenly weary of this game again. 

“His name is Jongho. He’s the better Beater on the team,” Seonghwa tells him. “His aim is frighteningly good, and he has a reputation for aiming at the opposing team’s Seekers. It’s a good strategy.” The elder sounds like he’s admiring him for a second until San kicks him in the shin, suddenly nervous. “Anyways, Seekers aren’t the easiest targets to hit,” Seonghwa assures him. “Remember the Bludgers are charmed. I’m just warning you to keep an eye out for him.” 

“Great,” San grumbles. 

“It’ll be fine,” Seonghwa assures him with a couple pats to his shoulder. “Just keep flying. If you keep moving you become a harder target to hit, okay?” 

San nods his head solemnly as Seonghwa picks himself back up. He holds his hands out for the younger boy who takes them, grunting as he’s pulled to his feet. “You ready?” he asks. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” San sighs. The sooner this match is over the sooner he can go back to his room and sulk. 

When the game finally starts, San quickly comes to the realization that just because he _knows_ what he’s supposed to do doesn’t mean he actually knows what to do. Once Hongjoong had released all of the balls, throwing the Quaffle up into the air to signal the start of the match, San had almost immediately lost sight of the Snitch in the blinding light of the sun. Then one of the Bludgers had flown by, and he’d jerked his broom to the side with a flinch. It hadn’t even flown close enough to be considered a threat, but San heard the wind _whoosh_ by as it passed, and that had been enough to scare him. 

Everyone had quickly moved into motion. One of the members of the Gryffindor team had grabbed the Quaffle first and the chase was on. San had watched them for a moment, heart practically pounding into his rib cage before he remembered Seonghwa’s warning and his eyes snapped up towards the Gryffindor’s team, searching for that Beater Seonghwa had pointed out earlier. It’s not too difficult to spot him. He sits confidently on his broom, his bat in hand as his eyes quickly scan over the field—probably trying to keep track of the Bludgers and his teammates position at the same time. 

Personally, San thinks they have the hardest job. He also thinks they’re probably the biggest assholes on the field. Despite Seonghwa’s warnings, though, Jongho doesn’t seem all that interested in him, barely sparing San a glance before his eyes zero in on a Bludger heading for his Keeper and he knocks it out of the way. Yunho also seems comfortable on the field, toying with his gloves as he watches the Quaffle carefully. He shoots his teammate a grateful smile. Still, now that they’re on the field in close proximity of each other, San can see how Jongho fills out his uniform quite nicely and it’s obvious how he made it on the team as a Beater. 

San wisely chooses to keep his distance, eyes straying instead to a small, petite girl bearing the scarlet and gold Gryffindor uniform. She’s not very mobile either, moving around at a slow pace as her eyes dart around. San hadn’t caught her name, but he knows she’s Gryffindor’s Seeker. It’s obvious in the way she’s scanning the field, clearly in search of the Snitch. 

Well, San thinks he should probably just keep close to her as he splits his attention between trying to spy the Snitch and watching her intently. After all, it’s not about who sees it first but about who catches it first. His attention is momentarily drawn away by cheering, looking up to see the Gryffindor Chasers giving each other a quick pat on the back after they must have scored. He watches as their Keeper throws the Quaffle to Seonghwa, and he wonders for the first time since he stepped onto the pitch what the hell he’s even doing here. 

This game is ridiculous, he thinks. There are _four_ balls in play; there are literally no Muggle sports like this—not to mention the Bludgers are basically like a bowling ball only they’re around to hit people instead of pins. And what the hell is the point of scoring goals with Quaffles anyways? They’re only worth 10 points each when the Snitch is worth 150 points. Yeah, Seonghwa had explained to him the few times where catching the Snitch hadn’t netted the team a win, but that still means the other team would have to be 16 goals ahead of the team that ended the game. And dear God, someone actually has to catch the Snitch to end the game? San is suddenly grateful that their teams had decided on an easy first to 100 points or first to catch the Snitch wins, but that’s only for this practice match. 

San would probably attempt to pull his own hair out if he weren’t too scared to take his hands off his broomstick right now. Why would Seonghwa ask him to play such an important role on the team? Scratch what he’d thought about the Beaters having a difficult job, San suddenly feels the pressure weigh down on him like a physical weight. When he’s finally done ranting to himself, he sees the Gryffindor Seeker suddenly take off. Caught off guard, he hesitates for a split second before he takes off after her. 

San considered himself something like a speedster when he first learned how to fly. Even his flying instructor had told him so. At least he did until he stopped flying altogether for the last few years. He and Wooyoung liked to race a lot their first year, so he’d learned to push his limits when it came to speed. It helped, of course, that he’d been rather fearless about it too before his crash. Even so, the Gryffindor’s Seeker is _fast_. San admits as much to himself as he struggles to catch up to the tail end of her broom. He squints through his goggles, trying to catch sight of the Snitch that she must be chasing after. He sees a brief flash of gold, but, in all honesty, he’s not so much chasing it as he’s just chasing her. 

In all honesty, San feels butterflies in his stomach as he chases after her from a mixture of thrill and fear. It’s _fun_ —he realizes with a jolt—to fly like this, but he’s also going too fast for comfort. For a moment he’s torn between slowing down for his own safety and speeding up to catch up to her. His drive for competition pushes him forward until he’s nearly neck and neck with her. It’s at that point that he tries to stop playing catch up with her and tries to actually chase after the Snitch. 

The problem, though, is that the way it moves is so unnatural and so unlike anything San is used to that he has a hard time keeping track of it. Something the Gryffindor Seeker isn’t struggling with so much, and so he finds himself constantly playing catch up when she turns to continue chasing after what he’s lost sight of in a split second. The only comfort he has so far is that she hasn’t actually managed to catch it yet.

If he can keep track of the Snitch, he thinks he might actually have a chance. He thinks that, at least, until something catches his attention in his periphery. His instinct is to look, out of pure curiosity if nothing else, and he does just that. He looks up to his right where he spies one of the Gryffindor’s Beaters, but his attention is quickly diverted to a Bludger coming straight for him. 

Realistically he if slowed down or sped up he might have avoided the ball altogether, but he doesn’t do either of those things, just watches with mild horror and some resignation as the Bludger flies directly at him. It hits him on the arm—likely one of the better places to be hit in all honesty—and the momentum of the ball colliding with his body causes him to tumble off his broom with a yell. He momentarily dangles from it with his uninjured hand still grasped around the broomstick, but he’s too disoriented and the broom teeters from the sudden force that he isn’t able to maintain his hold. 

“San!” He hears Seonghwa yell for him right as his fingers slip around their tenuous hold on the broomstick. 

He’s a fair distance above the field when he falls, but he hits the ground in just seconds, gasping in pain when a flash of pain travels up and down the arm he just landed on. His head rings as he forces himself to roll over onto his back, panting as he squints up at the sky. He grits his teeth through the pain as he hears footsteps rush over to him. A second later, Seonghwa’s Ravenclaw friend is staring down at him. His lips are moving, but San swears he can’t hear anything he’s saying. One arm is still throbbing from the impact of the Bludger, the other one hurts so bad he can’t even move it. 

The Ravenclaw helps him up into a sitting position, and San cries out in pain when it jostles his arm. “Are you okay?” he finally hears him ask. “Do you need a potion? I have one to help with pain in my bag.” 

Seonghwa drops in front of him, throwing his broom aside as he rushes over to San. “My arm,” the younger boy grits out. 

The elder reaches out, gingerly prodding at the arm that’s clearly bothering San. He hisses when Seonghwa touches it, face twisting up in pain. “I think it’s dislocated,” Seonghwa says quietly, looking to Hongjoong for guidance. 

The Ravenclaw hesitates for a moment. “I have a potion to help with the pain, but we should get him to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible.” 

The match comes to an abrupt halt after the Slytherin boy is knocked off his broom and their de facto captain immediately dives after him. Yunho winces when he hears the impact of a body against the ground and pulls off his helmet when he figures the game is probably over, what with Slytherin’s Seeker out of commission and all. He maneuvers himself next to Jongho, the younger boy biting his lip to hold in a laugh as he eyes the Slytherin team. 

“He really just went flying,” he remarks, clearly pleased with himself, but understanding that now isn’t _exactly_ the right time to be laughing about it. 

“That wasn’t necessary,” Yunho criticizes him. “He wasn’t going to catch the Snitch.” 

“What? I was just playing the game,” Jongho defends himself. “It’s not _my_ fault he flew into it. He could have dodged it if he really wanted to.” The Keeper supposes he has a point. 

“It’s his first game,” he points out, nodding towards the injured Slytherin. 

“So?” Jongho challenges. “I should just go easy on them because it’s their first match? If he’s not ready to play the game for real he shouldn’t be here. Getting injured is just a part of the game. You broke your arm during your third year, remember?” 

Sighing, Yunho starts removing his gloves. It’s not that Jongho is wrong; he just doesn’t think that this was entirely necessary. They would have won either way, and they all know it. “I’ll go make sure he’s not too hurt.” Jongho waves him off as he descends, dismounting from his broom when he’s close enough to the ground to hop off. 

He approaches the Slytherin duo as Hongjoong scurries off towards the sideline. The one who fell is clutching one of his arms, face twisted in pain as his captain speaks with him quietly. “Are you okay?” Yunho asks as he approaches. 

The Slytherin glares up at him, lips turned down into a frown. “Do I look like I’m okay?” he snaps. Yunho’s lips curl up in annoyance. He’s never really gotten along with a Slytherin for exactly this reason. They’re so unnecessarily combative. Still, he refrains from saying anything nasty in response, looking down at the de facto captain. 

“I think his shoulder is dislocated,” Seonghwa says. 

The injured boy groans, hanging his head. Without a word, Yunho reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wand. Immediately, San tenses up, watching the Gryffindor warily. He says nothing as he waves his wand once, pointing it at him, and San nearly bites through his tongue when another white, hot flash of pain travels up his arm. He releases a delayed squeal, falling onto his back again as he bears through the pain. 

“I popped his shoulder back into place,” Yunho says when Seonghwa turns to him with a horrified expression. He shrugs it off. He’s seen the injury enough times to know how to treat it. Hongjoong runs back to them then, holding a small potion in his hand. “You should keep it iced, and don’t move your arm around too much or it won’t heal correctly.” 

San barely listens to him, groaning when Hongjoong pulls him back up into a sitting position. The Ravenclaw holds the lip of the bottle up to San’s mouth, coaxing him to drink it. Yunho watches as the Slytherin practically chokes on the drink. It seems to help though because his body finally relaxes a little as the pain is dulled. 

“I know you’re a Seeker, but you should be more aware of what’s happening on the field,” Yunho advises him. 

The Slytherin snaps his gaze over to him. “Oh, fuck you,” he spits, struggling to pull himself to his feet. Yunho raises his eyebrows at the visceral reaction, watching the smaller boy slowly pick himself up. He shoots the Gryffindor one last glare before he turns to stomp off. 

“Sorry and thanks for the match,” Seonghwa murmurs to him before he takes off after his teammate. 

Annoyed, Yunho watches the two Slytherins as they leave, placing his hands on his hips and huffing to himself. The rest of the team follows after them while Yunho’s own team begins to gather together as well. “That was surprisingly fast,” their captain remarks, clapping Jongho on the shoulder for a job well done. 

“Was it that bad?” Jongho asks, looking to Yunho curiously. He’d heard the Slytherin’s exclamation before he’d stormed off. He didn’t think he hit him _that_ hard though. 

“No,” Yunho shakes his head. “He’s just being a sore loser.” 

“He’s a Slytherin,” someone snorts as if that’s an explanation. Yunho doesn’t want to say he’s right, but he’s never known a Slytherin who lost gracefully. Seonghwa might be the only one who came close. 

“You dislocated his shoulder,” Hongjoong points in a quiet voice next to him, turning his gaze away when Yunho looks down at him. “It’s not like he doesn’t have a reason to be mad. It was the first game he ever played.” 

“Getting hurt is a part of the game,” Yunho dismisses, using Jongho’s previous argument. Not every game results in injury obviously, but they’re not unheard of either. “If he’s going to be on the field, he should know that. And I fixed it for him anyways.” 

“Yeah, but then you scolded him for how he played. I just think it was a little overboard,” the Ravenclaw says. 

Yunho shrugs his shoulders. “I was giving him advice. He’s a new player, right? Clearly he could use it if he’s going to be on the Quidditch team.” 

“I don’t think there’s going to be one after that match.” Hongjoong sighs before turning on his heels to run back over to his bag. He should probably check in on Seonghwa and maybe prepare a batch of new potions for his friend. God knows he’ll need it. 

  
  
  
  


The rest of the school year passes by uneventfully for the most part. Injured and even more scared than ever of touching a broom, San devotes all the excess time he’d given into flying practice into his studies instead. In the hospital wing his arm had been fixed into a sling, charmed so that he could barely move it. The healer had told him that Yunho had done the right thing popping his shoulder back into place for him, and that he should refrain from moving his arm around as much as possible. San had grumbled to himself, still unwilling to admit that the Gryffindor had done him any favors as he half listened to her instructions. 

Speaking of the Gryffindor, it’s because of all this that San even realizes where he recognizes the Keeper from. They shared Potions together in the morning. He realized this when Yunho had caught his eye when he walked in only a day after the incident, eyes immediately falling to the sling on San’s arm. His pride had taken a blow from that, but he refused to acknowledge Gryffindor’s Keeper. He kept to himself as always. 

The extra time for studying pays off by the time the O.W.Ls roll around. San passes most of them with some degree of ease and confidence. It probably helps that instead of stressing out about the test, the only thing he can think about is how much he wants to go home. He wants to see his mom and dad and Yeosang. Literally anyone else but the people here really. 

After his last exam for the year, he practically runs back to his dormitory, eagerly packing away his belongings for the train set to leave tomorrow morning. The only thing on his mind is the taste of his mom’s cooking. He and Wooyoung already have plans to meet at the school entrance tomorrow before they head to the train station at Hogsmeade to catch the train back home. They’ve made it something like a tradition to commute to and from the school together, and San has no doubts that he’ll want to make plans over the summer together. He could really use this break. 

The next day, however, Wooyoung is late to their meeting, or maybe San is just too early. Honestly he’s so eager to go he might have just shown up a little too early, suitcases stuffed full of all the crap he’d brought with him this year. He’d managed to text Yeosang a message the night before from the top of the Astronomy Tower, but hadn’t gotten a response yet. He doesn’t doubt he’ll see his friend at King’s Cross Station though. Yeosang is usually waiting there along with San’s parents. 

Students are slowly starting to spill out of the school—some with their own methods of transportation home and others probably leaving early to pick up last minute souvenirs or other items from Hogsmeade. San anxiously glances around for his Hufflepuff friend, but Wooyoung is still nowhere to be seen. 

Sighing, he tries to relax on the bench he’d claimed for his own as he waits. Wooyoung will show up eventually. Someone breezes by him at that moment, and San jolts up when one of his suitcases teeters precariously, almost tipping over if not for his fast reflexes. He winces when his sore arm protests the fast movement, and he quickly relaxes himself again, reaching up to rub at his injured shoulder. He’d been able to finally take off the sling yesterday, but his shoulder is still sore, and he can’t quite move it around like he’s used to. 

He looks up at the student who nearly knocked over his belongings and blinks when he recognizes him. “Seonghwa,” he calls for his senior. The older Slytherin turns when he hears his name, eyes scanning the courtyard before immediately landing on San. 

“Oh.” He says, approaching the younger boy. “Hey, your sling is off. How is your arm?” 

San stares at him. His eyes are wet and red rimmed like he’s been crying, or at least been on the verge of it. For a moment San doesn’t know what to say or do, so he just stares at him. “Are you okay?” he eventually forces out, completely ignoring Seonghwa’s question. 

The older boy wipes his eyes like that will somehow wipe away the evidence. “I’m fine,” he answers when it’s clearly a lie. San crosses his arms over his chest, unconvinced. “Really,” Seonghwa insists, forcing a smile. “Especially right now. I’m glad to see you’re doing okay.” He motions to San’s arm, and the younger boy rubs at it self consciously. 

“Listen, if this is about the team I’m really sorry—” 

“Don’t be!” Seonghwa cuts him off before he can finish that sentiment. “It’s okay. I completely understand your decision after, well—” he looks down at San’s arm with some guilt. “I’m sorry that happened. It was your first match too.” 

San digs his fingers into his shoulder, wincing a little at the dull throb the action elicits. “You don’t need to apologize,” he says. For the most part, he knows that Quidditch is relatively a safe sport. There was really no reason for Seonghwa to worry about something like this happening, and either way it wasn’t his fault. “It’s not like you were the one who hurt me.” 

“I know, but I feel bad for pushing you so much.” 

“It’s okay.” San laughs nervously. “You got me back on a broom. That’s an accomplishment in itself, isn’t it?” Seonghwa smiles thinly at him, and neither of them mention how San hasn’t touched a broom since. “So, you’re not upset about the team?” 

“No,” he answers quickly. “God no. It would have been nice, but it’s not like it’s the most important thing right now.” His eyes stray around the courtyard as he digs his teeth into his bottom lip. “Anyways,” he turns his attention back to San, fake smile in place once more, “don’t worry about it. Have a good summer break.” He waves to San before turning around to continue on his way. 

The younger boy waves back with his good arm, frowning as he watches Seonghwa disappear. When he’s gone, he can’t help but look around, wondering what had upset his housemate to begin with, but all he sees are other students loitering around the courtyard or preparing themselves to leave for the summer. Then he spots Seonghwa’s Ravenclaw friend, Hongjoong, under a tree. He meets San’s gaze, hesitating when the Slytherin tilts his head to the side. Maybe he knows what’s up with Seonghwa. But as soon as he makes a move towards San, he seems to think better of it, pivoting to walk the other way instead. 

Frowning, San thinks about standing up to call for him. Just as he stands up, though, someone knocks into his side, and San hisses when his sore arm throbs with pain. “Sorry,” Wooyoung apologizes, reaching out to steady San. “I didn’t expect you to just stand up like that.” 

“You’re late,” San sulks, momentarily forgetting about Hongjoong. By the time he remembers the Ravenclaw is long gone. 

“Only a little,” the Hufflepuff defends. “I had to send a letter off to Yeosang.” 

San looks at him with confusion. “Why? You’ll see him this evening.” 

Wooyoung scoffs, waving his hand in San’s face dismissively. “You don’t _understand_ ,” he says fiercely. San opens his mouth to tell him that he can calm down, but Wooyoung continues on regardless. “I know that I’ll see him later, but it’s the courtesy of letting him know as much ahead of time that’s important. Don’t you understand how to court someone at all?” 

San stares at his friend, momentarily speechless. Does he really know how to “court” someone? The answer is a resounding no. San does, however, know how to flirt with someone, and this is definitely not it. “What century are you from?” he finally blurts out. Wooyoung huffs at him, puffing his chest out before grabbing his belongings and heading off. San quickly follows after him, using his wand to bring his belongings along to keep his arms resting. He doesn’t press Wooyoung on the subject though because he’s long ago learned to accept that there are just some aspects about pure blood wizards and their culture that he will just never understand. 

They arrive at Hogsmeade station while the train is still boarding. There’s plenty of time for everyone to board and get settled, but Wooyoung and San are used to sharing a cab together. They find an unoccupied one easily enough, quickly laying claim to it. 

“What are you doing this summer?” Wooyoung asks as he settles comfortably into the seat across from San. 

The Slytherin tears his eyes away from the window to look at his friend and shrugs his shoulders in answer. “The usual,” he says, smiling when Wooyoung pouts at him. The Usual refers to his habit of working in his parents restaurant for extra money to spend going out with Yeosang and some of his other Muggle friends. Activities that Wooyoung doesn’t particularly relate to. His family tends to focus on his studies—an activity the Hufflepuff absolutely loathes and going on neat vacations for his father’s job researching various magical creatures. San would think it’s fun if not for the fact that he kind of enjoys just being a normal teenager for a couple months over the summer, believe it or not. 

Wooyoung doesn’t even really hate it that much either. Their first year he _bragged_ about it during the entire train ride back, scoffing when San detailed his own plans to just work a little and spend time with his friends. There had been a movie that Yeosang wanted to go watch that summer, and Wooyoung couldn’t quite grasp exactly why that was a fun activity to do. 

Their second year Wooyoung had been left to his own devices for most of the summer when his father had gone on a more strenuous expedition and couldn’t bring his family along. Against all common sense, San had invited him to hang out with him and Yeosang, and ever since—well—Wooyoung hadn’t been so eager to go on those family vacations anymore.

“So did you manage to convince Yeosang to go on a date with you yet?” he asks, mostly teasing but a little curious. He texted Yeosang about it a few weeks ago, right before the O.W.Ls were set to start. Wooyoung practically shoved a letter into his face during dinnertime, demanding to know if it was an acceptable way to ask a Muggle out. It was okay, for the most part. San merely suggested a change in the location, reminding Wooyoung that taking him to a restaurant run by and almost entirely visited by wizard and witch patrons might not be an ideal choice for a first date. 

“It’s a world renowned restaurant,” he had squawked, initially refusing to edit that out. “Do you know how _expensive_ this place is? He should be absolutely delighted that I would pick such a place.” 

“First, he has no idea what the hell that restaurant is. Second, do you remember the incident with the Chocolate Frogs?” The Hufflepuff had fallen silent at the reminder, immediately taking out his quill to change the suggestion to a “place of Yeosang’s choosing” instead. San had asked if Yeosang had received that letter, but his friend had just ignored that text. 

“He’s okay to go somewhere as long as you come along as well,” Wooyoung sulks, lips forming into a pout. San snorts into his fist. “I do not understand how he isn’t comfortable with me yet,” the Hufflepuff complains, sitting up in his seat and taking in a deep breath. San can tell that he’s ready to go off on a tirade and settles into his seat to prepare for it as the whistle of the train bellows. It’s about to start it’s trek back to King’s Cross Station. 

Wooyoung is just barely into his rant when the train lurches into motion and the door of their cab slides open. The Hufflepuff pauses mid sentence, and they both turn their heads to see who’s trying to join them. San tenses when he lays eyes on the Gryffindor Beater—the very one who had knocked him right off his broom—standing at the door. Jongho looks between the two occupants, pausing when he sees San. He tilts his head at the Slytherin, looking as if he can’t quite pin where he recognizes him from. 

San sinks into his seat, averting his eyes and hoping that the Gryffindor will move on. People don’t usually want to share a cab with them because of San. But then Jongho grins, face lighting up with recognition. “Yunho, I found one with enough space,” he calls down the cart, and if San could be swallowed up by his seat right now he would gladly accept that fate over whatever is coming for him now. 

The Gryffindor steps into the cab without even asking if he’s welcome. Wooyoung immediately moves, sliding across the way to the bench San is sitting on and placing himself next to the Slytherin. Jongho takes the seat the Hufflepuff had previously been sitting in, and only a few seconds later, the door slides open again, and Yunho steps in. 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, San curls himself up against the wall staring outside the window and praying that Yunho won’t make any comment. Meanwhile Wooyoung just stares at the two of them, following Yunho with wide eyes as the taller boy sits himself down next to Jongho. The cab is quickly filled with a tense silence. The time San had looked forward to spending with Wooyoung on the ride back is suddenly gone, and now he just wishes the ride will be over as soon as possible. 

Maybe he can just take a nap the entire way there. San is pretty good at taking naps. He closes his eyes to do just that, burrowing his chin into the collar of his oversized shirt and pressing forehead against the wall. But then Yunho asks, “How is your arm?” 

Whatever peace San had hoped for is ripped from him with that one question. He opens his eyes, looking over to the two Gryffindors who are both looking at him. San makes himself impossibly smaller. “Fine,” he mumbles into his shirt collar. 

Wooyoung looks between the three of them curiously before the reality of the situation seems to dawn on him. “Wait,” he narrows his eyes at the two of them, “did one of you break his arm?” The Hufflepuff had been mortified when San showed up to the Great Hall with his arm in a sling the day after that match. San hadn’t said much about it other than they played against the Gryffindor team. 

“I didn’t break his arm,” Jongho defends himself. 

“You chucked a Bludger at him!” Wooyoung points an accusing finger at him before turning his suspicions over to Yunho. He had asked the question to begin with. San nudges him with his knee, a silent plea to just keep quiet. 

“It’s part of the game!” Jongho points out in exasperation. “Next time he should be more aware of what’s going on on the pitch.” He looks over to San, a little smile on his lips. “I can teach you how to, assuming Slytherin still has a team and all.” 

“Don’t get your hopes up too much,” San finally speaks, glowering at both the Gryffindors for a moment before he turns his eyes out the window again. “I don’t intend to embarrass myself again.” 

“That’s too bad,” Jongho laments. Yunho doesn’t make any sort of response, and when San risks a peek at the two of them again, he sees the Keeper just looking between him and Wooyoung curiously. Thankfully, the cab falls silent again. Eventually Jongho turns to Yunho, speaking to him in a soft voice about something. San could probably listen in on their conversation if he really wanted to, but he doesn’t. He just wants to get off this train as soon as possible. 

  
  
  
  


The summer holiday is a much needed breath of fresh air away from Hogwarts. His family lives in a small little apartment in the middle of the city, and the air is really anything but fresh here, but somehow it feels easier for San to breathe here than it ever has in the nice country side that the school is located in. Maybe because here he actually fits in. He knows how to talk to the people he encounters, and, most importantly, he can’t get _along_ with them. There are no annoying judgements because of the uniform he wears or the house he was sorted into. Here he’s just a normal kid doing normal kid things over the summer break. 

Yeosang at least lets him rest for the first day before he comes over, setting his skateboard against the wall next to his closet before making himself at home in San’s room. “So...how was your school year?” he asks with a little grin on his face. 

San peeks his head out from underneath his blanket. It’s already noon, and his parents must have let Yeosang in, but he’s not ready to get up and face the world yet. “You know exactly how it went,” he grumbles before covering himself back up. 

Yeosang laughs at him, reaching out to smack San on the hip and trying to coax him out of bed. “Come on, it’s already the afternoon! Let’s go do something.” 

“I’m injured! I’m an invalid!” San whines dramatically when Yeosang pulls him up by his good arm. San still stubbornly stays cocooned in his blanket, wrapping it around his body even as his friend manages to pull him up into a sitting position. Yeosang bites his knuckles, suppressing a laugh as San blinks blearily at him. 

“I can’t believe you’re a wizard and magic is real, but you still act like any other dude at school. I thought you’d be cooler as a wizard and all, but you’re really the exact same.” San glares at him before flopping back down on his bed rebelliously. “No!” Yeosang smacks him on the hip a few more times. “Don’t go back to sleep. I’m bored.” 

“You literally have an admirer who would _kill me_ to spend some alone time with you,” San huffs at him. He’s not even joking either. He’s almost entirely sure that if Wooyoung could get away with murder just to monopolize more of Yeosang’s time, he most certainly would. “Go hang out with him.” 

Yeosang’s cheeks color at the suggestion, and San grins triumphantly. He’s won this round. “No,” his friend says, carefully unwrapping San from his blanket burrito. “I can’t.” 

Finally, San emerges from his cocoon, running his fingers through his messy bed head as he slides out of bed to head for his dresser. “You know, Wooyoung’s not so bad,” he defends his Hufflepuff friend. Sure, sometimes San doesn’t really understand him, and he can be wholly annoying, but he’s one of the only people at Hogwarts that San would really consider his friend. He might actually be the only one because he can’t quite decide if he’s all that close to Seonghwa. “It’s been like...two and a half years now? He’s clearly into you.” He pulls out a loose t-shirt and a pair of pants, completely shameless as he slips out of his pajamas and changes with Yeosang in the room. They’ve been friends for too long for it to bother either of them. 

“I don’t doubt that,” Yeosang acknowledges as he makes the bed for San. It’s not so much that he’s nice enough to do that normally, but just because he needs a distraction. “It’s just enough for me to accept the fact that _you're_ a wizard and all.” 

“But you do,” San points out as he tries to tame his messy black strands. “I mean, it’s not hard to accept that he’s a wizard too, is it?” 

“It’s not hard, but it’s just weird,” Yeosang complains, smoothing at the blanket on San’s bed. He turns and sits down at the edge of it. “I mean, yeah you can do magic tricks and stuff—” San scoffs because that’s one hell of a misconception and understatement all bundled into one. “But at the end of the day, you’re still my dumbass best friend.” Yeosang smiles at him. “I can still talk to you about how shitty school is and about the latest movie you missed out on, but I can because you _get_ that stuff. I tried telling Wooyoung about how awful the morning commute to school was sometimes, and his suggestion was to just _apparate_ to school. What does that even mean!” 

San can’t hold back his laughter, taking a seat next to his friend on the bed. “I know. You don’t get him just as much as he doesn’t get you. He’s _trying_ though.” Wooyoung had told him how he signed up to take Muggle Studies next year as one of his electives. He’d been sure it would help him gain better insight to understand Yeosang. San didn’t think it would really do much of anything besides help clarify some of the things Yeosang would occasionally talk about. Still, he thought the whole thing was touching. 

Yeosang folds his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top of them thoughtfully. He shoots his friend a sly look. “He is pretty cute though.” 

San scrunches his nose up, neither agreeing or disagreeing with the assessment. “Okay, what do you want to do?” he asks. 

“Let’s go get a coffee,” Yeosang suggests. There was a Starbucks just down the street from San’s apartment, a new hangout spot they started going to last year when they finally decided that drinking coffee was cool because that’s what everyone else was doing. 

“Okay. Let me just find my wallet,” San grumbles, digging through his desk drawer for the thing. He unpacked it yesterday, but he can’t remember exactly where he placed it. 

He contemplates using his wand to find it even though he shouldn’t _technically_ use it in Yeosang’s presence, but before he can resort to magic, Yeosang says, “I’ll buy for you.” San pauses, his desk drawer still open, before whipping his head around to stare at his friend from over his shoulder. He tries to play it off, fingers playing with the strands of his dark hair, and avoiding San’s curious gaze. 

“You, Kang Yeosang, will buy me a coffee?” he questions. 

“That’s what I said,” Yeosang affirms, still refusing to meet his friend’s gaze. 

“And in exchange?” 

“What? I can’t just be nice?” Yeosang sounds offended, but the pointed look San gives him is enough to break his resolve. “Okay fine! I want something in exchange.” He hops off the bed and scurries over to his skateboard, picking it up and tucking underneath his arms as he motions for San to follow him. 

“What?” he asks curiously, following Yeosang as he leads him out of the apartment. 

Yeosang hesitates, moving his skateboard to his other arm. “Yeri’s put an idea in my head.” 

“Oh?” San holds his hands out, and, for a moment, Yeosang has no idea what he wants. He holds out the skateboard for his friend, shaking his head when San takes it from him. They pause as San sets the skateboard on the ground, placing one foot on top and pushing himself forward with his other foot. He wobbles, unsteady on his feet, and Yeosang walks alongside him as he swings his arms wildly to catch his balance. He places his foot back on the ground when he almost loses his balance. “What is it?” he asks, as he reaches out to grab Yeosang’s hands with his own. Then he pushes himself forward again, much more comfortable now that he can lean against his friend for support. 

“Well, I’ve been thinking about a change in my style,” Yeosang explains, pushing San back upright when he leans a little too heavily into him. San has never really been good at these things, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. “Yeri thinks I would make a good blond.” 

The skateboard slips out from beneath San, and Yeosang quickly abandons him to chase after his board. Sighing, San wipes his hands off on his pants as his friend scoops his precious skateboard up from the ground. They’re practically in front of the Starbucks now anyways. “You want to bleach your hair?” he clarifies, reaching out to hold the door open for Yeosang. “What do you need me for then? Emotional support?” 

“Hm, no.” He tucks his board back underneath his arms and asks if San just wants his usual. “I looked into it. Getting it done professionally is expensive, and my mom would definitely say no if I asked her,” he explains after placing their orders. 

San raises one brow quizzically, dropping down into a chair at an unoccupied table. “You’re going to DIY it?” 

Yeosang nods his head, placing his board wheels up beneath the table. “Yeah. It’s way cheaper that way, and that’s where you come in.” 

“I don’t know how to bleach hair,” San denies immediately, holding his hands up because this can’t be a good idea. “And I don’t know if magic will help in this case because I don’t know how to do that either.” 

“I don’t need either of those things.” Yeosang rolls his eyes. “I need a guinea pig.” 

San chokes on his own spit right before Yeosang leaves to pick up their orders from the barista. “You bought me a coffee and in exchange you want to bleach my hair? As an experiment?” 

Smiling with his teeth like a predator, he hands San his coffee. “Yep,” he answers cheerfully, popping the ‘p’ as he takes a sip of his own iced coffee. “I mean, I did a lot of research into it, so don’t worry, but I still want to practice before I do it on myself. What if I end up with orange hair the first time? Or a patchy mess? That would be a disaster.” 

“What if _I_ end up with that disaster?” San demands. 

Yeosang shrugs his shoulders. “I figured you could, like, magic it away or something. Or we could just get like black hair dye to fix it. I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” 

“You haven’t thought that far—” San scoffs. “I’m glad I clearly mean so much to you.” 

“So, you down? I already got all the stuff back at my place.” 

“You bought me one coffee,” San defends, shaking his iced drink at Yeosang. “I don’t owe you my dignity for that.” Which he assumes is how he finds himself sitting on the toilet in Yeosang’s bathroom as his friend pulls on a pair of black rubber gloves a few hours later. “Our friendship is seriously over if you ruin my hair, or if I go bald from this,” he threatens, knees knocking together nervously as Yeosang lays an old, ratty towel over his shoulders. 

“I think this will work,” he assures the wizard. “Now be quiet so I can read the instructions.” 

San’s heart drops to his stomach, and he hangs his head, resigned to his fate. 

  
  
  
  


It’s not horrible, but San isn’t quite sure how he feels about it. It took a total of three days for Yeosang to actually be satisfied. Maybe it was the utter desecration of San’s morale after the first day when his hair had been decidedly more orange than blond. His mother had all but screeched at him when he came home that day. Yeosang went back and fixed it with more bleach and toner over the course of the next couple of days, and while the end result really looked like a rather natural blond color, the entire process has scarred San too much. He kind of hates it. 

It doesn’t help that the first time Wooyoung comes to visit, he’s completely transfixed on his hair. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” he asks. 

San shamelessly points a finger at Yeosang. “He did it,” he accuses, stuffing a hat onto his head to at least kind of hide it. 

“I think it looks good!” his friend defends, swatting at the rim of his baseball hat to knock it off. “It looks natural, and it’s not patchy.” 

Almost immediately Wooyoung changes his tune. “You do look good,” he says with a saccharine smile. San frowns, glaring at the Hufflepuff. “Yeosang did such a good job.” 

“You’re such a simp,” San sneers at him. 

Wooyoung only blinks in confusion, prodding Yeosang on the arm. “What’s a simp?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” Yeosang answers quickly, although he has to hide a laugh. “See? Wooyoung thinks you look good too.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything! He’s just agreeing with whatever you say,” San argues. “Plus, _you_ were the one who said I was the guinea pig for you, and then after this,” he points to his head, “you changed your mind completely! That doesn’t exactly make me feel like I look good.”

“It’s not that it doesn’t look good,” Yeosang denies, waving a hand at San. “But it took half a week. I don’t have time to do that to myself all over again.” 

San doesn’t know if he believes him. Yeah, it doesn’t look orange anymore, nor is it a horribly unnatural color, but he feels weird about it anyways. He can’t go around anywhere with a hat though because Yeosang immediately snatches it from him and demands that he demonstrate his labor proudly. 

This is how he finds himself a few weeks later in an electronics store because Yeosang’s dog had eaten through the wire of his phone charger and he needed a new one. San comes along with him because he doesn’t have anything better to do, and they agreed to get lunch together afterwards. Plus, he’s eager to peruse the selection of headphones. His parents said he could get something nice for his birthday this year, and he could use a new pair. 

They split up inside the store, although they’re only an aisle apart, so San can look through his options while Yeosang grabs a new charger. He’s eyeing a pair of nice, noise canceling headphones—only one box left on the shelf. Reaching for it, he knocks the box to the floor when someone else goes for it at the same time. Cursing, San bends down to grab the box from the floor. “Sorry,” he apologizes, holding the box out for the stranger as he stands up. “I was just looking, so you can have them if you want.” He freezes when he actually makes eye contact with the other, the smile he had previously plastered on his face melting away. 

He holds the box limply in his hand as he stares at Yunho, the Gryffindor Keeper. He stares back at San, equally as confused, and makes no move to take the offered headphones. “You’re that Slytherin—” he starts to speak, but San finally seems to register exactly who he’s looking at. Before he can finish his sentence, the blond practically shrieks, shoving the headphones into the Gryffindor’s chest and jumping back a few steps. 

“San?!” Yeosang calls for him, clearly hearing his distress because only a second later he rounds the corner into the same aisle as his friend, coming up short when he sees Yunho. “You good?” he asks.

“Fine,” San squeaks, stumbling into Yeosang’s side. Of all things he ever expected to encounter over the summer, Yunho wasn’t one of them. What the hell was a wizard doing in a store like this anyways? The blond looks down at his friend, eyeing the package in his hand. “You got a new charger? You’re good then, right? Let’s go.” 

He tugs on Yeosang’s arm, trying to lead him away, but Yunho stops him again. “What about this?” he asks, holding out the box San had shoved at him. “Didn’t you want it?”

“I was just looking,” he says hurriedly, his grip on Yeosang tightening. “It’s no problem. You can take it if you want.” 

“Who’s that?” Yeosang asks in a quiet voice, holding his ground when San tries to tug him away. 

“No one,” San answers in a pitched voice. It’s obvious that he’s lying. 

“I’m a friend,” Yunho responds, drawing Yeosang’s attention. San gives him a warning look. Friends is not the right word. “From school,” he elaborates. 

Yeosang cocks his head to the side, momentarily confused before he understands. “Oh! You mean, you also, like,” he waves his hand in a way that’s supposed to mimic a wand. Yunho smiles at his imitation and tilts his head in answer. Sighing in relief, Yeosang pulls away from San who bites back a whimper as his friend approaches the Gryffindor. “Oh, thank God. San always complains about how lonely it is there. I’m glad he has more friends now. I’m Yeosang. And you are?” He holds out his hand for the Gryffindor who reaches out and reciprocates. 

“Yunho.” 

Yeosang smiles at him while San bites his lip, watching the exchange. He’s trying to figure out what the hell Yunho is trying to do from all this, but he has no idea what’s going on in the Gryffindor’s head. He called them _friends_ after all. “Yeosang,” he calls for his friend in a strained voice, “if you found what you needed, let’s go. I’m hungry.” 

“Oh, right.” Yeosang pauses, a thought crossing his mind. “We’re going to go get lunch. Do you want to join if you have time?” he asks Yunho. 

San’s stomach feels like it lurches up into his throat, eyes snapping up to the Gryffindor. There’s no way he’ll say yes, he assures himself. Why would he? They’re not friends, and Yeosang asked out of the blue and—

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” 

San’s knees almost give out under him as Yeosang cheers and says that he’ll be right back before he scurries off to the front of the store, leaving the two of them alone. “What the hell?” he demands immediately. “Why are you even here?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” Yunho responds, eyeing San up and down. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You changed your hair.” The blond immediately covers his head with his arms, slumping down underneath the Gryffindor’s gaze. Yunho seems to take pity on him though, lifting up the headphones in his hand. “My mom broke her headphones yesterday. Asked me to come get her a new pair.” 

San blinks at him. “Your mom is a Muggle?” 

Yunho hums. “My dad’s the wizard.” 

“Oh.” He never knew the Gryffindor was a half-blood. 

“I didn’t know you were a half-blood either,” Yunho remarks. 

“I’m not,” San grumbles, arms finally falling from his head to hang at his sides. “Neither of my parents are wizards.” He nods his head in the direction Yeosang ran off. “He’s my childhood friend. Also not a wizard, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Yunho seems even more shocked. “You’re a Muggle born wizard?” San nods his head, folding his arms over his chest. “In Slytherin?” 

Annoyed, he glares up at the Gryffindor. “Is there a problem with that?” he snaps. 

“Uh, no.” Yunho fiddles with the box in his hand. “It’s just...not very common. Slytherins tend to pride their lineage and blood heritage. They’re not usually welcoming of Muggles.” 

“Look, I didn’t _ask_ to be placed in Slytherin.” San sighs, stopping the rant on the tip of his tongue. He honestly has a lot to say to Yunho. His housemates haven’t even been all that bad to him, and it’s not as if the other houses have been _so_ much more welcoming to him either, but he doesn’t say any of that because, frankly, he just doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s the summer holiday. He just wants to forget that he’s even a student at Hogwarts. “Anyways, aren’t you going to buy those?” He stares pointedly down at the headphones in Yunho’s hands. 

“Oh, but they’re the last ones. I feel bad.” The taller boy holds them out to San, but the blond shakes his head. 

“I was honestly just looking. I don’t have the money right now to buy them anyway. It was just something I was thinking of asking for for my birthday.” 

“If you’re sure then…” 

“Just hurry,” San urges him. “I wasn’t lying about being hungry.” 

With a curt nod, Yunho turns to follow after Yeosang. When he’s gone San finally releases the breath he’s been holding. God, why did this have to happen during his summer break? He’s never seen Yunho around before, so why now? 

When the three of them leave the store after Yeosang and Yunho pay for their items, Yeosang leads them to a nearby fast food joint. He asks Yunho a million questions on the way there because “San’s never mentioned you before.” For a reason, the blond thinks bitterly, keeping to himself as Yunho indulges Yeosang. The Gryffindor falls a few paces behind Yeosang, rummaging through the plastic bag he’d gotten at the store, and the blond blinks when he offers the headphones to him. 

“What?” he asks, looking up at Yunho. 

The Gryffindor urges him to take it which the blond reluctantly does. “You said you wanted them for your birthday,” Yunho responds after San finally takes them. “Happy Birthday.” 

San denies that his heart might have skipped a beat at those words as he stares down at the brand new headphones in his hands. They weren’t exactly cheap either. “Why?” he asks. 

“Consider it an apology,” Yunho says, eyeing his arm. 

San rolls his shoulder subconsciously. “It’s fine,” he says, trying to offer the headphones back to him. “I’m all healed up and everything.” He still tries not to do anything too strenuous, but he can move his arm around without any soreness or pain. The Gryffindor refuses to take back the gift though, insisting that if he won’t accept it as an apology then to accept it as a gift. “What about your mom though?” 

“She has an old backup pair she can use for now. I’ll get her new ones later. Besides,” Yunho looks down at the headphones, “I used my own money for that.” 

Definitely those are not butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Nope, definitely not. 

  
  
  
  


The Slytherin is nothing like Yunho initially thought. He’s only been with the blond for around twenty minutes now, but it’s like Yunho’s met an entirely different person than the one who had angrily spat at him to fuck off on the Quidditch pitch. He can tell by the way the blond interacts with his friend while they wait in line during the lunch rush. He’s constantly joking around, speaking animatedly with his lips pulled into a pretty smile and his new headphones tucked beneath his arm. Granted, Yunho hasn’t known him for long, but he’s fairly sure he’s not seen the Slytherin look anything besides sullen or angry before. 

Everytime he catches Yunho’s gaze, however, his energy seems to subside a little as he remembers the Gryffindor is there. Yunho wonders what he’s done to cause San to behave like that. It’s made all the more clear that San’s icy exterior seems reserved for Yunho when Yeosang receives a call from his mother half way through their meal, apologizing profusely to his friend when he has to go. 

An awkward silence quickly settles over the two Hogwarts students when he leaves. The bright smile on San’s face immediately fades, and he quickly becomes subdued as he stares down at his food. Yunho takes a sip of his soda and tries to think of something to say to start a conversation between them. 

“So, when is your birthday?” he asks. 

San startles at the question, peeking up at the Gryffindor from underneath his long bangs. They hang over his eyes, and Yunho resists the urge to brush them aside because that would definitely be weird. “Oh, it passed already,” he answers, staring down at his half-eaten burger. “My parents said they would get me whatever I wanted this year, but I didn’t know what I wanted at the time.” He looks over at the headphones Yunho had gifted him, still boxed and lying on the table next to him. “Are you sure about this? These weren’t exactly cheap.” He reaches out to touch the box, ready to hand them back over to Yunho. 

“It’s fine,” he assures the blond. His family is well off, and he’s always gotten a fairly generous allowance from his mom. “Besides, I feel like I owe you something nice.” 

San furrows his eyebrows. “Why would you say that?” 

Clearing his throat, Yunho crumples up the wrapping of his burger and pulls his drink closer. “I realize I may not have made a great impression when we first met. I wasn’t....trying to be mean, but I realize that I wasn’t being very nice either.”

San frowns, playing with the straw of his drink. “Like what?” he asks, curious to know if Yunho really was aware of his actions. 

“Like those comments about your flying.” He drums his finger into the side of his plastic cup. “And giving you advice on Quidditch. I didn’t realize you were raised as a Muggle.” 

“It would have been okay if I were a pure blood wizard?” he asks. 

“I’m not saying that,” Yunho protests weakly. “I’m just saying...it makes more sense to me now, your hesitation with flying and playing Quidditch.” 

San hums, bending his straw with his finger so he can lean over and take a sip. He still doesn’t really like Yunho all that much, wary of the Gryffindor boy, but he admits that Yunho hadn’t exactly been terribly mean to him. Unsympathetic, maybe, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to bully him either. Plus, he did kind of fix his arm that one time. 

“Okay then,” he says slowly, eyeing the headphones Yunho had gifted him. “I accept this then, but we aren’t friends.” He narrows his eyes at the Gryffindor, still a little bit annoyed that he had told Yeosang they were friends when they clearly weren’t. 

“Then what would you call us.” 

“Classmates,” San answers without missing a beat. 

“I guess that is accurate.” The conversation between them quickly dies down again, and Yunho can’t help but miss Yeosang’s presence. He seemed to bring out a side in the Slytherin that Yunho rather admired. “So why did you decide to go blond?” he asks. 

San blinks, reaching up to twirl a strand of hair around his finger. “Oh, this?” He tucks the strand behind his ear, hunching down in his seat. “Yeosang wanted to bleach his hair. I was just the guinea pig.” 

Yunho tilts his head to the side in confusion. “But his hair isn’t bleached,” he notes. 

Sighing, the Slytherin folds his arms on top of the table and hides his face in the cradle he makes. “He changed his mind after seeing me.” Then he peeks at Yunho from his arms. “I don’t suppose you’re good at Potions, are you? Is there one to, like, fix this?” He vaguely motions to his head as Yunho finishes his soda. 

“I’m not very good at Potions,” Yunho tells him. “I don’t know if there is, but I don’t think you need to fix it. It looks nice.” 

San narrows his eyes at him. “You’re not going to buy my friendship with compliments,” he warns. 

“I’m not trying to buy anything,” Yunho denies. “I’m just trying to be nice.” That does even less to abate San’s suspicions because, again, while he may have to admit that Yunho isn’t exactly a bully, he doesn’t consider him _nice_ either. “Anyways, I’m just trying to tell you that you look nice with a light color. Though you should,” he makes a little scissor motion with his hands, “cut your bangs a little. You can’t see your eyes at all.” 

San pushes his bangs aside, huffing at the suggestion. If he goes home that night and trims his bangs a little, it’s definitely not because Yunho suggested it. 

  
  
  
  


In all honesty, San kind of expects the run in with Yunho to be a one off thing. It was pure coincidence they ran into each other that day, and, like San said, they aren’t friends. That should be it, right? So why is this the third time this week that Yunho is hanging out with them? Even Wooyoung is shocked when he shows up and sees the Gryffindor standing next to San and Yeosang. 

“Since when were you and Gryffindor’s Keeper close friends?” he hisses to the blond as Yeosang herds them into the mall. He’s maybe feeling a little bit betrayed by the development. He’s used to be San’s best friend—at least at Hogwarts. He’ll relinquish that title to Yeosang overall though. 

San shakes his head. This seems to be entirely at Yeosang’s behest seeing as those two are the ones who had exchanged phone numbers that first time. However, the Hufflepuff is quick to take advantage of it when he sees the opportunity. “Hey,” he starts, staring at Yeosang’s back when an idea pops into his head. “If he’s here, you can’t complain about being a third wheel anymore, right?” The blond hums, not really understanding his friend’s train of thought. 

Wooyoung grins at him before he suddenly scurries over to Yeosang, insisting that there’s something he needs to buy even though San knows that’s a lie. He sputters, watching as his friend tries to pull his best friend away—Yeosang clearly reluctant as he motions to San standing behind them. That’s when the Hufflepuff smiles at Yunho. “You can keep him company, right? This won’t take long at all!” he asks the Gryffindor. Yunho blinks but nods his head. “Great!” Wooyoung drags Yeosang off before anyone else can protest. 

San can honestly only gape at his audacity. “Fucking snake,” he mutters to himself as the two of them disappear into the mall crowd. 

“What was that about?” Yunho asks, approaching San. The blond shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest as he glances towards Yunho, resigning himself to hanging around the Gryffindor. Wooyoung is honestly so selfish; he’s the worst. “Should we wait for them?”

“That’s pointless,” San sighs. “We’ve been ditched.” 

“Ah.” When San peeks up at him, he thinks the Gryffindor might actually get it. He hopes he does because San doesn’t really want to explain the situation. It’s embarrassing enough to watch them, talking about them feels like torture. “What do you want to do then? Shop?” 

San kind of wants to go home. That’s what he wants, but it would be rude, and he doesn’t really have anything to do at home. He sighs, “Yeah, I guess.” He eyes the taller boy critically for a moment. Yunho doesn’t look bad, but he doesn’t really dress like the average teenager either—probably from being raised a wizard. San can see it in the way Wooyoung and some of the other students dress themselves, so pristine and proper. “Where do you want to go?”

Yunho thinks about it for a moment, reciprocating San’s once over. Then he motions for the Slytherin to follow him, and the blond complacently allows him to lead the way. 

It’s not as bad as San would have thought, and he has to remind himself that Yunho is, in fact, a half-blood. The first time they had brought Wooyoung along with them to a mall had been such a mess that San half expected the same kind of hassle with Yunho. The Gryffindor isn’t horribly ignorant though—a little off the fashion mark maybe but at least he’s not clueless. More than that he’s actually kind of funny when he turns one of the more deserted dressing rooms they find into a mock runway of the ugliest pieces of clothing he can find. San would like to say he didn’t laugh, but he would be lying if he didn’t admit to hiding a few giggles behind his hand. 

“These are actually pretty comfortable,” he remarks, digging his fingers into the pocket of the bright, neon yellow parachute pants he had found after digging through the sales section. 

“You look terrible in them though,” San laughs, eyeing the pants like they have a life of their own. 

“They’re so cheap though!” Yunho gasps as he eyes the price tag. “I might.” 

“Don’t.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. When would I ever be able to wear them?” He disappears back into the dressing room to change back into his clothes. “Do you want to get a snack?” he asks through the door. “I’m kind of hungry.” When he emerges from the dressing room, San nods his head with a small smile. 

They buy pretzels from the food court because Yunho absolutely lights up when he sees them. “I haven’t had one of these in so long,” the Gryffindor remarks as he tears off a piece to eat. 

“You don’t eat a lot of junk food?” San asks. Well, the Gryffindor is an athlete even if San has to question how much strain he puts on his body flying around on a broom. 

“I don’t eat a lot of...typical Muggle foods,” he responds more carefully. The blond raises an eyebrow at that, nibbling on his own pretzel. It’s not as if they don’t have some foods that overlap, but—staring at the little tub of cheese sauce Yunho had devoured with only half his pretzel—he thinks he knows what Yunho means by that. 

“You said you were a half-blood though, right?” San tears off a small piece of his own pretzel and reaches out to feed it to the Gryffindor when he notices that he’s already finished his own. As soon as he takes it from his hand, lips brushing against his fingers, the blond jerks back, realizing what he’s done. It was just a habit. He’s used to feeding Yeosang and Wooyoung from time to time. He did it to Yunho without even realizing. “Sorry,” he apologizes, wiping his fingers on a napkin though he plays it off like he’s just trying to wipe off the cinnamon sugar. 

“It’s okay,” Yunho says. “It’s not like it’s offensive, especially from you.” San stares down at the table top. That hadn’t been what he was apologizing for, but he doesn’t correct him. “I grew up more as a wizard than a Muggle though.” He glances around the food court, watching all the people walking about. “This kind of place isn’t really my forte, but I can’t imagine I’m worse than your Hufflepuff friend.” 

San laughs, unable to help it because he can still remember the first time he’d invited Wooyoung to come with them to the mall. The Hufflepuff had spent the entire time eyeing most articles of clothing with some degree of suspicion though he’d been very vocal about his approval of whatever Yeosang picked out. “You didn’t have to come if it makes you uncomfortable,” he tells him. 

Yunho shrugs. “It seemed fun though. Besides, it made my mom happy. I’ve never really had non-wizard friends. I think she’s glad that I have some now.” San hums, still not quite sold on the idea that they’re friends even though hanging out with just Yunho hasn’t been so bad. Maybe he’s referring to Yeosang anyways. “Can I ask about them?” the Gryffindor asks suddenly. 

“Who?” San offers up another piece of his pretzel though this time he holds it far away enough that the Gryffindor has to reach out to take it from him. 

“Yeosang and Wooyoung,” he clarifies. 

“Oh, well,” San’s lips curl up in distaste when he thinks about those two, not because he dislikes either of them, but because he dislikes the two of them together. “Well, I always hang out with Yeosang over the summer break, you know? I don’t see him very often anymore because we go to different schools,” _very_ different schools, “so, my summers are for him. Wooyoung usually goes somewhere for vacation with his family too, but, like, one year he got stuck at home and wanted to hang out with me. So that’s how he met Yeosang, and he’s been pining for him ever since. It’s super gross to be honest. And awkward. Neither of them really get each other, but they’re both so gross. I don’t know how they haven’t kissed yet. Or maybe they have and they haven’t told me yet.” He cups his chin thoughtfully. “No, Wooyoung definitely would have bragged about it by now if he had.” When he looks up to Yunho, the taller boy has an odd expression on his face, head cocked to the side. “Oh. That’s....not what you were asking about,” he realizes. 

“No, but that was actually quite interesting.” Yunho grins at him. “They sound super cute, but I get it. Must be annoying to third wheel them like that and all.” San hums in agreement. He loves the two of them, really. He just hates when they’re together with him around. “What I was trying to ask was about your friendship with them,” the Gryffindor clarifies. “I mean, a Hufflepuff and Slytherin seem like an odd combination to me. No offense.” 

“Well,” San starts slowly as he thinks about it, “Yeosang’s been my best friend for, like, forever pretty much. We used to be neighbors until both our families moved to new apartments during elementary school, but we’re still close. He’s always known about...me, but neither of us thought there was a _school_ for being a wizard. And I met Wooyoung during my first year at Hogwarts. We met on the train actually, and we just—I don’t know—clicked together?” He furrows his brows together. “Now that I think about it, it was probably because I was the one person he could talk down to since I didn’t know anything about being a wizard and all.” 

“And you’ve been friends since?” 

The blond nods his head though his gaze seems fixed on the remains of his pretzel. “Friends,” he murmurs like the concept is foreign to him. “Yeah, probably only because of Yeosang though.” 

“How do you mean?” Yunho asks. 

San shrugs his shoulders. “He honestly kind of ignored me after the first day when we were sorted, but he was the only person I knew, and, honestly? The other people in my house kind of scared me at first. I kept seeking him out because he was the only person I knew. I kind of figured it was burdensome to be friends with a Slytherin though. You learn that pretty quick.” He tears off a piece of the wrapper the pretzel came in, just to do something with his hands. “We weren’t on bad terms, just...okay terms, I guess? I actually really don’t know why he reached out to me that one summer, but I’d suspect that I was probably the last resort, until he met Yeosang. Then I became his best friend.” 

“Are you mad at him for that?” Yunho asks, reaching out to pull his pretzel away because he’s slowly mutilating the package. 

“Mmm, not anymore really. Sometimes I use it against him, but only as a joke,” the blond answers. “It was super obvious at first, and kind of annoying, but we had _lots_ of time to hang out during the school year, so I guess we just actually became friends at some point.” He rests his head in his hand to keep himself from reaching out and tearing the wrapper some more. “I like my housemates more too, now, but Wooyoung is still probably my only friend at school.” 

“Aren’t we friends yet?” Yunho asks, maybe a little too optimistically. 

“You dislocated my arm,” San points out. 

“ _I_ didn’t do any such thing! I put it back,” he defends. 

“That shit hurt by the way,” San points out, rolling his shoulder like he’s checking to make sure it’s still in place. “And you were so callous about it.” 

“I—apologize,” he stutters out when he quickly realizes he doesn’t have a defense. San isn’t wrong. Yunho himself would probably characterize it more as indifference than callousness, but he supposes it’s the same either way. “I’ve already apologized for that. It wasn’t my intention to be mean.” 

San shrugs him off. “Well, I guess I’m used to it. I’ve learned that people just don’t like me because I’m a Slytherin.” 

Pressing his lips together, Yunho resists the urge to try and refute San’s statement. Truly, he doesn’t hold anything against house Slytherin or any of their students, but he would be lying if he denies the notion that he didn’t have any reservations about them. He’s quickly realizing, however, that his—and others’—judgements may have very much cornered San at school. They had Potions together last year, but Yunho admits he hadn’t even noticed him until after that practice match between them. It was obvious that he didn’t have any friends in that class though. 

“That shouldn’t be the case,” he says in a quiet voice instead. 

San snorts. “Didn’t _you_ not like me because I was a Slytherin? On that note, why exactly are you so keen to hang out with me anyways? Isn’t that old tradition, or whatever? Slytherins and Gryffindors just hate each other because?” 

“I never hated you,” Yunho fibs. Admittedly, there was a point in time where he disliked the blond, but never hated. “I admit that I was...judgmental at first. It was just odd to see a fifth year struggling to fly, and I genuinely thought it was funny because you were a Slytherin. They’re usually so prideful and everything. And you were oddly aggressive during that match too—” 

“Your _teammate_ dislocated my fucking _arm_ ,” San protests. 

“My point is,” Yunho presses on, ignoring San’s insertion, “These things make a lot more sense when I realize that you’re a Muggle-born wizard, but, regardless, I was wrong. Am I not allowed to be wrong sometimes?” 

The blond sulks, eyeing Yunho with apprehension. “I hate how chivalrous you're being about this. It makes it hard to stay mad.” 

“It’s one of a Gryffindor’s better traits,” he declares proudly. “And why insist on being mad when we could be friends instead?” 

“Why do you want to be friends?” San questions, clearly suspicious. 

“That’s a silly question,” Yunho admonishes him. “Because I like you. Do you not like me?” 

The blond folds his arms over the table, looking thoughtful. “Well, I guess you are pretty funny.” 

“There you go then. Do you want to exchange numbers, then? Or do you prefer communicating the wizarding way?” San scrambles to pull out his phone. 

  
  
  
  


Having a new friend is actually quite nice. Having a friend completely separate from Wooyoung and Yeosang is what really takes the cake. San doesn’t think that Yunho is a closer friend than either of them, but—considering he’s a couple degrees removed from the situation—he finally has someone to complain to about them. 

“So, Yeosang just makes you come along like a chaperone?” Yunho asks when San is done retelling him about the latest mishap he’s had to witness between the two of them. They’re just at a park because San doesn’t want to spend any money, but he also doesn’t want the Gryffindor in his room. There was a vendor selling lemonade at the park entrance though, and Yunho had bought him a cup. “Why?” 

“Cause he’s a giant baby,” San complains, bending his straw between his fingers. 

“So—wait—does Yeosang actually like him, or is this like a totally one sided thing?” 

San honestly appreciates how invested he is in this even if it’s just because he likes the gossip. Either way it means San has someone to unload all his complaints on. “No, they both like each other. I mean, Wooyoung is super obvious about it.” Yunho covers his smile with his hand. “Yeosang isn’t as obvious, but we talk about it a lot. He likes him, so I don’t know why they can’t just hang out. Like just the two of them.” 

“I mean,” Yunho motions for the lemonade in San’s hand. The blond lifts it up, holding the cup as Yunho leans down to take a sip. He smacks his lips together and sighs in satisfaction before he finally finishes his train of thought, “Wizards are pretty old fashioned. You said Wooyoung is a pure blood, right? They’re super old fashioned, even about this stuff. It’s not _uncommon_ to have someone supervise the whole courting process, you know? Especially in this case since I doubt his parents are arranging this match.” 

San’s nose wrinkles up in distaste. “Is that really a thing that happens?” 

“Sure.” Yunho shrugs his shoulders. “My parents fight about it from time to time. My dad wants to arrange a match for me. I’m pretty sure he has a whole folder of potential witches he likes, but my mom always chews him out when he brings it up. I mean, he didn’t listen to his parents either, so it is kind of hypocritical to do it to me.” 

“Seriously?” San’s lips part in shock. “You’re okay with that?” 

“It’s not something I try to think about,” Yunho laughs. “But I guess I don’t think it’s as strange since I was raised that way. I don’t know. It’s not really what I want ideally, but I guess if I can’t find someone I like I wouldn’t be opposed to trying. It’s like blind dating, right?” 

“Would you have a supervisor too?” San asks, half-joking but also kind of curious. 

“My dad wouldn’t take it _that_ far.” 

“Huh.” San takes a long sip of the lemonade before offering it to Yunho again. He also takes a sip. “See, that would all make sense if it weren’t for the fact that Wooyoung would very much like to get rid of me, and _Yeosang_ is the one who’s always making me tag along.” Yunho chokes on the drink. San laughs, patting him on the back when he starts coughing. 

“Yeosang is the one who drags you along?” he asks in a hoarse voice before devolving into another coughing fit. 

“Yeah. Shocking, right?” He encourages Yunho to have some more lemonade to clear his throat, but the Gryffindor shakes his head. “Honestly, it’s because he has no confidence. He’s really shy, and he’s always putting himself down about everything: academics, hobbies, his love life. I think he just doesn’t really believe that Wooyoung likes him, so he uses me as a buffer.” 

“That’s oddly endearing, but I bet it’s kind of annoying.” He smiles sympathetically when San groans. 

“Well, I guess that’s enough about me. Sorry for just complaining the whole time.” He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning at himself. “God, I probably sound like such a bad friend.”

Yunho waves him off as San finishes the last of the lemonade. “It’s okay, and you don’t,” Yunho assures him. “There’s a difference between complaining about someone because you hate them and this. It’s okay to be frustrated by your friends sometimes, and it’s kind of funny anyways. It sounds like their relationship is straight out of a horrible drama.” 

“It is, isn’t it!” San exclaims, tutting when he thinks about it. It’s like watching two star crossed leads dancing around each other as a horribly cliche plot plays out. It’s even worse, though, because as far as San can tell there is literally no conflict between the two of them other than their own idiocy. There are no evil forces trying to break them up or keep them apart. They’re just doing it on their own. “It’s okay, maybe the more I ditch them to hang out with you instead they’ll eventually come to terms with their relationship and just kiss already.” 

“Have you tried just telling them that?” Yunho suggests. 

San nods his head, biting back a smile as he plays with his straw. “Wooyoung tried it once.” Yunho leans forward, his interest piqued. “Yeosang freaked out, almost broke his nose. It was hilarious.” 

Cringing, the Gryffindor shakes his head. “I’d think Wooyoung is the dangerous one being a wizard and all, but I guess I should keep my eye out for Yeosang.” 

“Yeosang’s _terrifying_ ,” San confirms, lips pulled up into a smile. “We had a bake off my first Christmas at home from Hogwarts and I tried using my magic to cheat. I thought I was going to die when Yeosang realized and wrestled me to the ground. I definitely learned my lesson that day. Cheaters never win.” 

“You guys sound cute,” Yunho compliments him. Flushing, San drops his gaze down to his empty cup, shaking it so the ice clutters around noisily. The conversation between them briefly dies down between them before Yunho changes the subject. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he says.

San lifts his eyes up to look at him curiously. “What?” 

“Are you actually going to play on the Slytherin Quidditch team? Or were you serious about quitting?” 

San freezes, fingers pinching the straw as his jaw slacks. “I’m not—are you kidding me? I’m never playing again! I get it, Gryffindor is the best team, but, like, _damn_ if that’s how you guys play no thanks!” Yunho winces at his rant, taking a step back in shock. 

“I’m sorry,” the Gryffindor apologizes meekly. Again. 

San breathes in deep, calming his nerves, before he shakes his head. “No, you don’t have to apologize. You’ve already done that plenty,” he says, sounding a lot more level headed now. “I just...want to get done with school, you know? Without getting hurt. That would be nice.” He crosses his arm over his chest to grip the shoulder he dislocated a few months prior. Yunho watches the action with some guilt. His fingers dig into his shoulder, and laughs to himself. “I’m not even that good of a player,” he jokes. “Can’t even fly on a broom really.” 

It’s supposed to be a joke, but neither of them laugh at it. Yunho actually frowns at him, and San feels bad for a brief moment. Maybe he shouldn’t hold it against the Gryffindor anymore when he’s already apologized for the incident. Yunho doesn’t scold him for it though, just shifts his weight and reaches out to take the empty cup from San’s hands. “I think you would do just fine,” he encourages. 

San’s fingers clench around nothing after Yunho takes the cup from him. Then he drops his hands into his lap. Those words sound oddly familiar. However, San can say with certainty that his heart hadn’t exactly done a backflip in his chest when Seonghwa had said the same thing to him. “What are you talking about?” San laughs nervously. “You saw me play. I suck.” 

Yunho tilts his head to the side like he can’t even begin to comprehend San’s logic. “What are you talking about? You were keeping up with our Seeker pretty well.” 

“I don’t know if you remember this, but the game ended within, like, half an hour because one of your Beaters literally beat the shit out of me with a Bludger, and I don’t even think we scored a point. What are _you_ talking about?” 

Yunho smiles at him. “So you could use some more training. It was your first game.” 

“Why do you want me to join the team?” he asks, wary of Yunho’s motives. 

The Gryffindor shrugs his shoulders. “We can’t play together, but I’d like to play a game with you again. You’re fun to watch.” San flushes, the tips of his ears turning red from Yunho’s words. Had he been watching San that match? The Slytherin hadn’t really been paying attention to him, more focused on keeping an eye on their Seeker. “Plus, it would be nice for all four houses to have a team again. Quidditch is the quintessential wizarding sport after all.” 

Yunho’s words sound nice, almost too nice. San bites his lips, thinking for a brief moment that it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, but then he tenses up at the thought of getting on a broom again, and he frantically shakes his head. “No, there’s no way. I can’t play Quidditch.” 

Yunho presses his lips together, looking like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Instead he shakes the empty lemonade cup in his hand and says, “I’ll go throw this away.” He doesn’t bring up Quidditch again. 

  
  
  
  


_So are you and Yunho friends?_

San stares at Wooyoung’s handwriting. The question is scrawled on an entire sheet of paper that the Hufflepuff sent his owl to deliver. He can’t help but to stare uncomprehendingly at the question. It’s stupid, he thinks. This is exactly the kind of thing that Yeosang will probably never understand about wizards, and San can’t really blame him. Wooyoung will claim this is just formalities, but San can’t help but think about all the times he spent passing notes with Yeosang in class in elementary school. 

Digging through one of his drawers, San fishes out a pen from the mess of random items he often just threw in there. He places Wooyoung’s note down on his desk, flattening it out with his fingers as he taps his pen against the note right underneath the Hufflepuff’s message. 

Is he friends with Yunho? His immediate thought is to deny it. It’s a thought that—he realizes—seems to be completely dictated by their Hogwarts Houses. Slytherins and Gryffindors just hate each other, right? He’d even posed that question to Yunho. The Gryffindor seemed to think of them as friends, or he hoped that they were friends at the very least. And San likes him. He does. Yunho is nice, and he makes San laugh, and he’s someone San can retreat to when Wooyoung and Yeosang are being particularly annoying. 

Given the option, though, San would probably always pick Yeosang or even Wooyoung to hang out with before Yunho. He likes him, but he acknowledges that he’s not exactly comfortable with him. 

So he writes a simple _I don’t know. I guess?_ underneath Wooyoung’s writing. Folding it back up, he hands it off to Wooyoung’s owl who takes it before flying off. What’s it matter anyways? San throws the pen back into his drawer, sliding it shut with his hips just as his phone rings, alerting him to an incoming message. San turns to his bed where he’d thrown his phone down on earlier, walking over to it. He expects something from Yeosang. He’s really the only one who ever texts the wizard besides his own parents, so he can’t help but stare when he sees Yunho’s name on his phone screen. 

They’ve texted some, of course—San gave him his number after all—but they don’t talk all that often, and San typically initiates the conversation since Yunho seems keen on giving him space. Licking his lips, San checks his messages. 

_There’s an open field out behind the old train tracks. Meet me there?_

San frowns at the message. He has a lot of questions. 

_Near my place?_ he asks. 

Yunho’s response is almost immediate, _Yes_. 

_Now?_

_Yeah. Unless you’re too tired_. 

It’s late. The sun has already set, and it feels awfully suspicious that Yunho wants to meet now. 

_It’ll take me awhile to get there_. 

_Fly_. 

San’s stomach churns at the suggestion, and he tightens his grip on his phone. 

_No. If you can’t wait that long then forget it._

Three dots show up on his screen. San bites his lips as he stares intently at them. Then they disappear, and he has to convince himself that he’s _not_ disappointed. Then he receives another text. 

_I’ll wait_. 

Sighing, San pockets his phone before he sifts through his closet for a light jacket. It may be summer, but the nights can still be cold. Passing by his desk, he hesitates for a second before pocketing his wand. Just in case. Then he sneaks out of the apartment to meet with Yunho. 

The place Yunho wants to meet is an open field sprawling out from an old, abandoned playground. It’s small. The metal of its structures rusted and the paint mostly peeled off. Only flecks of its original blue color are visible. More interestingly, Yunho seems to have lit up the field like a small sports stadium. San eyes the floating lights as he approaches the Gryffindor slowly. 

“What’s this?” he asks, waving towards his magic. 

Yunho sits up from his reclined position. “Oh, finally,” he says with a grin, hopping to his feet. 

“Were you waiting a long time?” San asks, stepping closer to Yunho. The Gryffindor hums but doesn’t give him a concrete response. Frowning, San crosses his arms over his chest, eyes falling to the items Yunho appeared to bring along with him. He raises his eyebrows at them: two broomsticks, two rubber dodgeballs, and two paddles. “What is all this?” he asks again, lifting his eyes up to meet Yunho’s. 

The taller boy looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling nervously. He scrambles over for one of the balls, picking it up off the ground and holding it up for San. “I thought we could play a game,” he suggests. 

“At night?” San asks. 

“It involves magic,” Yunho tells him. 

The blond bites his lips, eyes fixed on the rubber ball in Yunho’s hands. Something about the suggestion sets him on edge. “What kind of game?” he questions, gaze straying over to the brooms. Something tells him that this will involve flying, and butterflies flutter in his stomach. 

“It’ll be like a game of dodgeball,” Yunho explains, smiling when San turns to him. “It’s a Muggle game, right?” 

“Sure. Doesn’t involve brooms though.” He points down to the offending items. 

“Well—” Yunho stammers, holding the ball against his hip. “I figured we could play a game of dodgeball while flying?” San’s face twists up with uncertainty. “It’ll be good! It’s safe. These are way lighter than a Bludger.” He tosses the ball up and down to prove his point, but San can’t help but wince every time the ball makes a hollow sound against Yunho’s palm when he catches it. “I thought I could teach you some tips on how to avoid a Bludger. Particularly against Jongho.” 

San’s lips curl up into a smile, but it’s one of disbelief not joy. “What? Is this a joke?” 

“No. I’m serious. I just thought I could give you some pointers in a safer environment.” 

“Why? I’m not playing Quidditch.” 

Yunho sulks, hugging the ball to his chest. “I think you should reconsider. I know you got injured the first time, but it’s not a common occurrence, and I’d think you would do great. I really do.” 

“‘Great,’” San quotes him with a scoff, casting his eyes to the grass. He’s not even really mad. Truthfully, San had been looking forward to that match. Seonghwa had piqued his curiosity about the game and getting on the broom earnestly for the first time in years had been exhilarating. San missed it. But Quidditch is more than just flying, and flying is still an essential component of the game. Both of these are issues for him. 

“San, I mean it. If you really don’t want to play, I understand. I just think—” 

“I can’t fly,” the Slytherin cuts him off, glancing briefly to the brooms before he meets Yunho’s gaze. “There’s no way—I can’t fly. I’m not going to play that game, Yunho.” 

“What do you mean?” Yunho looks confused. “You can fly. I _saw_ you fly. You’re fast!” 

“I can’t fly,” San insists, turning away from the Gryffindor. He bites his lip, casting one last glance at the brooms Yunho had brought with him. “Anyways, if that’s what this game is then I can’t play. Sorry.” He takes off across the field before Yunho can stop him. It takes him way too long to get back home on foot, dragging his heel against the pavement as he laments what a waste of time this all was. He snorts when a thought crosses his mind. 

Maybe if he would just fly it wouldn’t take so long. 

  
  
  
  


Summer is drawing to a close, and San’s mood plummets more with each passing day. It’s a common pattern for him whenever the beginning of September looms near because it means he’ll soon have to catch the train back to Hogwarts. Yeosang is used to this. Yunho, evidently, is not because he spends much of his time with the Slytherin trying to cheer him up without really knowing the reason for his sour mood to begin with. 

“You know, you don’t have to hang out with us if you don’t want to,” San tells him a beat after Yunho cracked a joke that fell flat for the blond. The Gryffindor blinks at his words, drawing away from San. They’re both sitting on the curb of the sidewalk in the parking lot of the skatepark they’re at. San sits with his knees drawn up to his chest while Yunho sits with his legs stretched out in front of him. 

“Is that your way of telling me to fuck off?” Yunho finally asks. He plants his hands on the curb, looking away from San towards Yeosang. The Muggle is riding his skateboard across the park, using some of its smaller structures, while Wooyoung watches, completely enraptured by him. It would be funny, the Gryffindor thinks, if he suddenly didn’t feel so unwelcome. 

“That is not what I said,” San denies, hugging his knees close. “I just—” he hesitates, expression falling. “Don’t want you to feel like you have to.” 

“I’ve been hanging out with you for a whole summer basically,” Yunho points out, still watching Yeosang. “What makes you think I feel obligated?” 

San traces his knees with his finger, a pout on his lips. “Well, I—” he stops himself because the truth is he has no idea why he would think that. Because Yunho had made fun of him before? San admits that even if he had been offended at the time Yunho hadn’t really been intentionally malicious with his words. Because he was a Gryffindor then? San has never cared about the houses and the odd internal politics that seemed to rule the relationships between them. 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yunho finally tears his gaze away from Yeosang and Wooyoung to look at him. San shrinks under his stare, eyes fixed on his knees. “Aren’t we?” he repeats. 

“Yes,” he says after a delay although his answer is earnest. Yunho doesn’t look as convinced by his answer, shifting away from the Slytherin. “It’s not that I doubt you.” San catches himself when he reaches out to grab Yunho’s arm. He curls his hand into a fist, dropping it into his lap. “We _are_ friends, Yunho. I definitely think of you as a friend. I just guess I don’t understand why you want to be friends. With me.” 

The Gryffindor narrows his eyes at him. “You keep asking me the same question. Over and over again. Haven’t I already told you why?” 

“I know! I just—” he pauses, thinking of how he wants to finish his train of thought. He knows what Yunho will say after all. The Gryffindor likes him. That’s what he’s said every time San’s asked. But _why?_

“You don’t believe it?” Yunho suggests, finishing the Slytherin’s thought for him. San sheepishly stares at his knees so that he doesn’t have to look at Yunho. “Why?” Yunho shifts a little closer to his side. “Do you hate me?” 

“No,” San answers without thought, finally lifting his eyes up to meet Yunho’s gaze. “I don’t hate you at all.” 

“Then what is it?” 

The blond glances over to his friends, watching as Wooyoung points to his skateboard and says something to Yeosang. Yunho leans forward to block his view, and San focuses on him again. “What’s on your mind?” the Gryffindor asks, genuinely curious. 

Licking his lips, San hugs his knees close, digging the toes of his shoes into the gravel parking lot. “I started showing some aptitude for magic when I was a kid,” the blond tells him, rocking himself back and forth using the balls of his feet. “I didn’t really know what I was doing. It was all just very rudimentary things, you know, making things levitate and just dumb shit like that. I didn’t really show anyone except Yeosang. It was kind of our secret.” He pauses for a moment, expecting the Gryffindor to ask him why he was even saying this, but Yunho doesn’t speak, just stares at San expectantly. 

“It made me feel unique, and it made us closer in a lot of ways. Because we were sharing this secret together.” San plays with his fingers, pulling at them one by one and twisting them together. “Then I got invited to Hogwarts, and I wanted to go so badly. To meet other people like me, you know? But then I got there and…” 

“You didn’t find what you were expecting?” Yunho finishes for him. 

“I was ready to learn! About myself and what I could do. And I was ready to make friends. Yeosang is—I love him, but I’m different from him.” Yunho nods his head in agreement. “I wanted people I could talk to about this, who could help me with it, but no one really wanted to engage with me after I got sorted into Slytherin. And it’s like you said, I’m a Muggle born wizard so a lot of my housemates kept away from me too.” 

"I’m...sorry you feel that way.” 

San shrugs him off. “It’s...whatever. I’ve gotten used to it, I guess. What I mean to say is, I’m just…kind of waiting until it’s all over. I think I’ll happily go back to my life before, you know? I never really felt all that home there. I think I look forward to the summers more because it means I can just be normal for a couple months. So, I just don’t know why a wizard would want to be my friend.” 

Yunho reaches out, hesitating, before he places his hand on top of San’s knee, patting him once. “You’re a wizard too. You belong there.” He eyes the Slytherin who’s still avoiding his gaze. He squeezes San’s knee, finally drawing his attention. “Yeosang told me that you never had problems making friends when you guys were kids,” he says. 

San raises his eyebrows at that. “Yeosang told you that?” 

Yunho nods his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. “We talk about you sometimes.” 

“You talk about me?” San squeaks out. 

“Sometimes,” Yunho emphasizes with a little shrug. “Nothing bad or anything, but sometimes he just tells me a little bit about you. He told me that once.” 

San’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “Why?” he asks. 

The Gryffindor presses his lips together, dropping his hand away from San’s knee. He turns his head to look over to Yeosang and Wooyoung, watching the way Wooyoung holds his arms out as he races alongside the Muggle like he’s ready to catch him at any moment. It’s cute. “He worries about you,” he tells the Slytherin, looking back to San who blinks owlishly at him. “At Hogwarts. He told me you often complain about being lonely.” 

San eyes fall to the asphalt although his lips pull up into a little smile. “He said that?” 

“Do you not talk to him about that?” 

“No, I do,” San acknowledges, combing his fingers through his hair. “I just...guess I never realized he worried about it.” 

“He’s your best friend, isn’t he? Of course he worries about it,” Yunho tells him, reaching out to cup the blond’s chin. He tilts San’s head back up to look at him. “I don’t blame him. We had potions together last year, didn’t we? You were always alone.” 

San laughs humorlessly at the reminder, pulling his chin from Yunho’s grip. “Yeah, I guess. Wooyoung wasn’t in that class with me so…” 

Yunho frowns at the excuse. “Is Wooyoung really your only friend?” 

The Slytherin peers up at him, fingers tracing along the curb they’re sitting on. “I mean—at Hogwarts?—I guess so. Yeah.” 

Yunho tilts his head to the side, studying San and his body language. It’s oddly reminiscent of the way Yunho first remembers the Slytherin: sullen, closed off, and, at the time he thought it combative, though he recognizes it for what it is. Protective. “You don’t like going there, do you?” 

San tenses up at the question, before peering up at Yunho. “Where? Hogwarts?” he laughs nervously. “I don’t! I mean, I don’t really regret going or anything. I needed it. My magic was a little out of control as a kid.” He crosses his arms over his lap, leaning over them as he stares intently at the toes of his shoes. “I guess I would be lying if I said I feel like I missed out by not going to a normal school though. I miss having a social circle.” 

“Why is it so hard for you to make friends at Hogwarts?” Yunho asks. 

San turns his head to look at him, and his expression says it all. The Gryffindor awkwardly averts his gaze. “Why do you think?” he asks. “It’s for the same reason you didn’t like me at first, the same reason Wooyoung pretended he didn’t know who I was our first year.” He frowns at his toes, thinking about the last day of the semester. He hasn’t thought about it a lot, but whenever he remembers Seonghwa on that day he can’t help but feel bothered. He never did find out what happened to his housemate, although he can make an educated guess. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I had been sorted into a different house. Wooyoung used to tell me he thought I would have fit in in his house. Maybe people would have liked me more then.” 

“I think you’re perfectly likable as you are. Being a Hufflepuff wouldn’t change that,” Yunho tells him. 

Sighing, San cups his chin in his palm, leaning into it. “You think so?” 

Yunho hums, nodding his head in response. “Is that why you’ve been so down lately? Because school is starting again?” 

“Sorry,” San apologizes. “I don’t mean to be such a downer. We’re still on vacation!” 

“Don’t apologize.” Yunho wraps his arms around his legs, guilt clawing at his stomach. “I guess I can’t blame you for not wanting to go back if that’s how you feel at school.” 

“It’s not so bad,” San says, trying to mitigate his negativity. “I have Wooyoung, and Seonghwa is really nice too. Plus, we’re friends now too, right?” He looks at Yunho hopefully. The Gryffindor quickly nods his head in agreement because of course they’re friends. San smiles at him before joking, “Just don’t pretend like you don’t know me when we get back, eh?” 

“Why would I do that?” Yunho asks, eyebrows knitting together. 

San snorts, shaking his head at the Gryffindor. “It’s just a joke.” 

They both look over when Yeosang releases a yelp, only to see Wooyoung clinging to his shoulders. Yeosang’s skateboard is quickly speeding towards them, and Yunho reaches a hand out to stop the board. “I told you,” Yeosang scolds the wizard as he tries to push Wooyoung off of him, but the Hufflepuff stubbornly clings on, digging his fingers into the back of Yeosang’s shirt. 

San hides a laugh behind his hand as he watches his two friends. Yunho rolls the skateboard back over to them, smiling when he turns back to San. “Do you ride a skateboard at all?” 

“Me? No,” the blond shakes his head. “Well, not really I mean. I can’t even fly a broom, you think I can ride a skateboard?” 

Yunho cocks his head to the side. “What do you mean you can’t fly? You were doing well.” 

“You weren’t saying that before,” San points out. 

The Gryffindor looks away while awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought you were an unusually slow learner. I never thought you were _bad_.” He clears his throat awkwardly, looking guiltily at the Slytherin. “I guess my assumption was still wrong though. I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” San cuts in before Yunho can even try. “It’s okay.” 

Yunho is silent for a moment as he digests San’s words. “Would you really not consider it? Joining the Quidditch team, I mean.” 

“You really want me to join,” San notes. 

Yunho nods his head enthusiastically. “Yeah. We only played one matched against each other, and I’d hate to think that might be the only one we ever get to play with each other considering how it ended.”

San considers Yunho’s words, fingers lacing together underneath his knees. Something about the way Yunho says it has the Slytherin’s heart fluttering in his chest. For a moment, San actually considers it, but then he inevitably remembers that mock match, and he swears his shoulder suddenly throbs in pain. “I’m not much of a Quidditch fan,” he says. 

“I figured,” Yunho smiles at him, knocking their shoulders together. “Would you at least come watch our games?” 

San blinks at the request, turning to look at the Gryffindor. “One of your games?” he repeats. Yunho nods his head with a little hum, and San doesn’t have the heart to tell him no even as he internally shudders from the memory of cockroaches. “Sure,” he agrees in a small voice. “Sounds fun.” 

Yunho grins at him in a way that San actually convinces himself that he might be able to sit through the torture of another Quidditch match. Of course, there’s always the option to play a match against Gryffindor’s team again instead, a little voice reminds him in the back of his head. There would be no fear of cockroaches in that case.

“Hey, you remember that game you wanted to play behind the old railroad tracks?” San asks. 

“Hm?” Yunho perks at the reminder. “Yeah. What about it?” 

San looks down at his knees, lips pursed together thoughtfully. “Do you want to play it still?” he asks, wincing at his own question. It feels silly to ask Yunho to play a game with him after the fit he threw about it last time. He wouldn’t blame the Gryffindor at all for not wanting to play with him. 

To his surprise, however, Yunho visibly brightens at the question. “Yes! You want to play this time?” 

San hesitantly nods his head. “I think,” he says slowly, eyes looking down to the toes of his shoes. “I think I’m down to actually play this time.” 

Yunho smiles at him. “Tomorrow night?” he suggests. 

San agrees, “Yeah. Tomorrow night sounds good.”

  
  
  
  


Yunho brings along the same set up as before, and San blinks at the bright lights shining down on him. Somehow he doesn’t feel so anxious this time, at least not until Yunho bounds up to him with a broom in hand. He offers it out to San who accepts it with a nervous little laugh. He holds the piece of equipment in his hands awkwardly, staring down at it while wondering why he ever thought he could do this. San and flying are just two words that don’t mesh well. 

Yunho runs back over to him after picking up his own broom from the ground. He pauses when he notices the way San stares at his broom like it’s an enemy he must overcome. Yunho gives the Slytherin a once over as he reigns in his own enthusiasm. “Last time you said you couldn’t fly,” Yunho recalls. 

Startled, San looks up at him and nods his head curtly. “Yeah. Well, I guess it would be more accurate to say that I’m scared to.” Yunho had seen him fly before after all, embarrassing as that had been.

Yunho stares at the blond for a moment before his eyes trail down to the broom in San’s hand. The blond has a vice-like grip around it, his knuckles turning white from the force of his hold, and Yunho honestly wonders if he’s trying to choke it. “Do you mind if I ask you why?” he asks gently. 

San’s hold on the broomstick somehow tightens even further, the Slytherin laughing nervously at the question. “I mean, it’s not normal right?” he asks like he’s seeking reassurance more than he’s looking for a real response. “Flying around on a broomstick. I mean, aside from the whole magic thing, there’s no safety. Like if someone falls off or something,” he mumbles. 

Yunho cocks his head to the side, contemplating San’s words. “That’s an odd thing to be afraid of,” he finally remarks. “I mean, there are plenty of spells to land safely if something should happen.” 

“Safely,” San snorts, rolling his shoulder with a grimace on his face. 

Yunho winces, eyeing the Slytherin’s action with some guilt. “Well, I suppose things could have gone better for you last time,” he says to himself, turning his own broomstick around in his hand anxiously. “How about I spot for you this time? Just in case. You should be fine because we’ll be using some light weight balls, but I’ll keep an eye on you if it makes you feel better.” 

Sighing, San holds the broomstick out, eyeing it warily. 

“You shouldn’t be afraid,” Yunho tells him when San doesn’t say anything for a moment. “You’re a wizard. Flying is just a part of that.” 

“I’m really bad at it though,” San protests even as he swings one leg over the broomstick. “Something bad always seems to happen whenever I get on one.” 

“What if something good happened every time you got on one?” Yunho asks, taking a few steps closer towards San. 

The Slytherin eyes him suspiciously. He’s still not off the ground yet, this whole thing feeling a lot like it had with Seonghwa. “Like what?” he asks after a short pause. 

Yunho smiles at him and motions for San to fly. “You have to fly first,” he bargains. 

Pressing his lips together in a thin line, San holds an internal debate over whether or not he wants to do this. He studies the Gryffindor skeptically, wondering what he could possibly have as a reward. Taking a deep breath, San turns his head away from Yunho to look down at his broom. It takes a lot of effort and willpower, but he forces himself off the ground, hovering just above the ground with shaky hands. 

“There,” he announces, forcing himself to relax when he reminds himself if he stretches his legs out he can brush the ground with his toes. He’s safe. He’s perfectly safe like this. He’s just also a little embarrassed that he’s acting like a child in front of Yunho. 

The Gryffindor nods his head in approval, eyeing the way San is flying. He’s uncomfortable, but he’s off the ground, so that has to count for something. San removes one hand from the broom, pausing to make sure he still has his balance, before holding it up to Yunho. The Gryffindor blinks down at the outstretched hand in front of his face. “What?” he asks. 

“You said you’d give me something good if I flew,” San reminds him. 

Yunho smiles at him. “I didn’t say I’d give you anything,” he answers. “I just asked if it would help if something good happened every time you got on a broom.” 

San pouts at him, hand dropping back down to his broomstick. What a rip off, he grumbles to himself. However, Yunho takes another step towards him at that moment, leaning forward to press his lips against San’s cheek. San jerks away from the touch so abruptly that he nearly sends himself toppling over, only managing to stay on his broom because Yunho reaches out to catch him. 

“Sorry!” Yunho apologizes as he helps San steady himself on the broom again. He keeps his hands on San’s shoulders even after he helps steady the blond. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out like that. I just—” he cuts himself off, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Damn. This hadn’t been his intention at all. 

San holds a hand to his cheek, eyes wide with shock and his heart beating quickly. He can still feel Yunho’s warm lips against his cheeks, and his spin tingles at the memory. “You—you kissed me,” he stammers, unable to look the Gryffindor in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho apologizes again, grimacing at his actions. Why did he think that would be a good idea? 

“Why?” San asks, feeling his brain short circuiting as he keeps thinking about that kiss. 

“Well, because—” Whatever explanation Yunho had planned quickly dies in his throat when San looks back up to him. The Gryffindor turns away from him, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. “You wanted something good for flying, so I just thought…” he trails off. 

“So you kissed me?” 

“I could do something else instead,” Yunho says.

“No.” Yunho lifts his gaze back up when San quickly declines his suggestion. The blond clears his throat when their eyes meet. “It’s not like I didn’t like it. I was just surprised.” 

The grin finds its way back to Yunho’s lips, and, confidence regained, Yunho leans forward towards San, close enough that all the Slytherin has to do is lean forward for their lips to touch. He doesn’t, though, sitting perfectly still on his broomstick as he looks down at the pretty shape of Yunho’s lips. The urge is there, but San doesn’t have the courage to actually go through with it. “So,” Yunho says, “you want more?” 

San’s lips twitch a little at the question, tongue poking out to wet his lips. It would be a lie to say that the Gryffindor Keeper didn’t make his heart pound, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. It seemed to be a perpetual feeling since he started hanging out with Yunho over the summer. “Only when I’ve earned it,” he answers. 

Yunho bites his lips and nods his head in agreement. “Okay,” he says. “Do you want to spend a little bit of time getting the hang of flying before we play?” 

San eagerly nods his head at the suggestion. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

They work on getting San in the air slowly. Yunho coaxes the blond up gradually, encouraging him to follow the Gryffindor as he flies ever higher. Each time San catches up to him, Yunho leans over to place a kiss to his cheek, the blond giggling each time. It feels silly, but it helps San forget about his fear of heights if only for a moment. Yunho is nice about it too, never pushing the blond too far too fast. 

Eventually, they move on to the actual game. Yunho flies down to grab two red, rubber balls and motions for San to come meet him. “The rules are pretty simple. We’ll play it like a regular dodgeball match,” he explains. 

“Regular?” San asks skeptically as he eyes the rubber balls. His legs swing back and forth, toes just barely brushing against the grass below him. 

“Well, with magic,” Yunho amends. “These will represent Bludgers.” The blond flinches at the mention of Bludgers, eyeing the rubber balls warily. “I’ll enchant them. They’ll act like normal Bludgers, but they’re so lightweight that if you get hit,” he throws the ball at San in demonstration, hitting the blond on the arm. San startles, but it’s not enough to throw him off balance. “You should be fine,” Yunho finishes. 

“And the paddles?” San asks. 

“Ah, right.” Yunho drops the balls down in favor of grabbing the paddle. He hands one to San who takes it, turning it over in his hand. It’s not very long, so it’s comfortable to hold, but the actual paddle edge is large enough that it would be easy to hit the rubber balls. “We’ll use these like bats. It’s kind of late, so we’ll just say first to get hit three times loses.” 

San nods his head in agreement. “Okay, sounds fair enough.” 

Smiling, Yunho digs into his pocket for his wand. He pulls it out, waving it towards the rubber balls with a silent spell. They go flying off, one of them whizzing by San who flinches away with a squeal. Yunho quickly runs back to his broom. 

“You ready to go?” he asks. 

San looks around their little makeshift Quidditch pitch, watching the rubber balls fly around. They’re easy to spot with their bright red color, and they’re definitely less intimidating than the Bludgers. “Okay,” he says in a small voice. “I’m ready so long as you’re ready to lose.” Yunho grins at him, and San twirls the paddle in his hand once. The game is on now. 

  
  
  
  


Yunho quite easily beats him. San guesses he can’t be too surprised about it considering the Gryffindor’s experience far outpaces his own. It had been terrifying the first time Yunho had hit one of the rubber balls, sending it directly to San. However, it bounced off of the blond with little force behind it, San able to comfortably stay on top of his broom. More than anything, San is rather disappointed at how easily the Gryffindor had managed to get in the first hit. Their game started only minutes ago. 

The Gryffindor had paused their game for a moment after that first hit, beckoning San closer with a crook of his finger. With a petty pout in place, the Slytherin flew in closer to him. Yunho explained how he’d been able to hit San so easily. “Nothing will ever be exact, but if you fly in the exact flight pattern I predict, all I have to do is hit the ball at the right angle.” 

“So what?” San asked in confusion. “I just have to fly randomly all the time? What if I’m chasing a Snitch? How am I supposed to do both?” 

“No,” Yunho shook his head. “That’ll only slow you down. You shouldn’t pay attention to _your_ patterns. Instead you have to pay attention to your opponent’s, or Jongho, in this case. He’s really good at doing this and putting himself in a spot to get a good angle on you. That’s why he can be hard to play against.” 

San reached up to scratch behind his ear. “Okay. So does he have like a tell tale sign when he’s going to smack the living shit out of someone? A twitch of his nose? His left foot shakes? I don’t know, something?” 

Yunho laughed at each of his suggestions, lips stretched into a big smile. “No, you just have to keep your eye out and be mindful. Remember, the goal of a Bludger is to be a nuisance. You should never forget their presence, least of all when you’re trying to chase down a Snitch. That’s when you become the prime target.” 

“Okay.” The blond nodded his head in understanding. 

“You want to keep going?” Yunho asked. 

San didn’t hesitate before nodding his head again. “Yeah. Let’s keep going.” Just because the Gryffindor had a head start didn’t mean that San couldn’t still pull it back for the win. 

The reality is that, while Yunho might have had a harder time getting in the second hit, he does manage to hit San one more time before the Slytherin manages to hit Yunho even once. San manages it, although it’s more a matter of luck than anything else. He hit the balls more frequently than Yunho, but they were almost always off the mark. The times Yunho would send a ball flying in his direction, San almost always had to go out of his way to avoid them. 

The game ends not long after San manages to land his first and only hit on the Gryffindor. San is already full of excuses after they both land their brooms. “You got me because I wasn’t paying attention,” he immediately tells Yunho, pointing a finger at the Gryffindor. “I was busy celebrating getting a hit on you.” 

Yunho just smiles like he knows exactly why San is behaving like this. “You should always pay attention to your opponent until the game is over,” the Gryffindor advises him once San is done making his excuses. 

The blond pouts, glowering up at the taller boy through the fringe of his bangs. “This wasn’t fair,” he says, trying for a different tactic. 

“How?” Yunho sputters. 

“You’re a more experienced player than me!” San exclaims, looking at the Gryffindor pointedly. 

“I’m not a Bludger though. And this game is entirely made up.” 

“Yeah, but you still played way more than me. This was rigged against me from the start!” 

Amused, Yunho takes the broom from San when the Slytherin thrusts it out for him to take. “Are you being a sore loser, San?” 

The blond startles at the accusation and quickly averts his eyes from Yunho’s stare. “No,” he denies. “I’m just saying that I could have won if this were a much more even playing field.” 

“Ah.” Yunho nods his head in understanding. “So you _are_ being a sore loser.” 

“I’m not!” San jumps on the balls of his feet, just little hops to help him release some of his anger. It’s really more cute than anything else though. Yunho’s smile only grows wider at his antics. 

“You know,” the Gryffindor remarks as he begins to pick up the various items they’d left around the field, “I thought I totally understood why you were in Slytherin at first.” He picks up a messenger bag he had brought as well, placing each of the items in the bega, all of them disappearing inside without taking up any space. “But then when we started hanging out I couldn’t understand it anymore. You don’t seem like a typical Slytherin to me. Now, though, I think I really, actually get it this time.” 

“Is that just your nice way of calling me a sore loser?” San accuses, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“It’s my way of saying that you have a strong competitive spirit,” Yunho corrects him. San doesn’t buy it though, still muttering curses and promises of revenge under his breath. “Speaking of which, don’t I get a prize for winning?” 

“What? No,” San sputters. “I don’t have anything anyways. You planned this, so you should have brought prizes if we were going to do that. Anyways, we basically knew you were going to win from the beginning.” He looks away when Yunho narrows his eyes at him. He’s not being a sore loser, he tells himself. He’s just telling the truth. 

“Okay, how about a punishment since you lost then?” 

San balks at the notion, but Yunho doesn’t back down this time. “What? A punishment?” the blond whines. 

“Sure, that’s easier to fulfill, right?” 

San pouts and shrinks into himself, suddenly nervous at the prospect of receiving a punishment. “What kind of punishment are we talking about?” he asks. “Are you going to hit me?” 

Yunho taps his chin thoughtfully, pretending to think about it. “Well, how about a kiss?” he suggests. San makes a noise of surprise in the back of his throat. “What, you don’t like it?” 

“Huh? No,” San denies while at the same time averting his gaze from Yunho. “I just think—is this a punishment for me or a prize for you?” 

“That depends entirely on how you view it,” Yunho says. He tilts his head to the side, looking at San with a small curl to his lips. “So, is that acceptable? I’m open to other suggestions if you have them.” 

“Huh?” San gawks, reeling back a step. How is Yunho going to just put him on the spot like that? Because right now, San’s mind completely blanks out. Is he supposed to come up with a different punishment he’d be willing to accept? Or offer a different prize to Yunho instead? “Well, I just don’t understand why you’d want that,” he finally sputters out. 

“Why not? I’ve been giving you kisses all night, haven’t I?” Yunho points out. 

Oh, yes. That’s right. San feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Okay, okay,” the blond surrenders. Pleased, Yunho turns his head to offer San his cheek. The Slytherin hesitates, fingers twisting into his shirt as he draws closer to Yunho before pausing. The Gryffindor waits patiently for him, holding his position until San is ready to move in closer on his own. 

Finally the blond pushes himself onto the balls of his feet so he can lean up to place a brief kiss on Yunho's cheek. It’s short and not exactly sweet, but Yunho is satisfied either way. He laughs when San stumbles back a couple of steps, pointing a finger at Yunho. “Just wait. I’ll beat you next time,” San promises. 

“Okay,” Yunho agrees easily, bending down to pick up the last paddle which he puts away in his bag as well. “What would you like next time? For when you win?” 

San looks over at him with narrowed eyes. “Buy me dinner,” he suggests. 

Yunho digs his wand out of his pocket, waving it around to draw the light sources he had set up back to it. The field is blanketed in darkness, only the moonlight illuminating them now. San blinks a couple times to let his eyes adjust, but he still jumps in surprise when Yunho wraps an arm around his shoulder and tugs him in close. San grunts when he’s tucked into the Gryffindor’s side, but he doesn’t protest. “Alright, it’s a date then,” Yunho says. 

“I never called it a date!” 

“Well, would you be mad if it is one?” 

San quiets down, pretending to think about the question even though he already knows the answer to that question. He wouldn’t be mad. “Is this just going to be our thing then?” San asks. “The loser has to do something for the winner every time?” 

“Why not?” 

“Well,” San cups his chin with his fingers like he’s thinking about it, “I have to think of all the things I want for every time I beat you.” 

Yunho laughs at him. “You really think you’ll win that often? We only have a little more time before the summer is over.” 

San presses his lips together, peeking up at the Gryffindor shyly. “Well—” He abruptly cuts himself off, reaching up to wrap his hand around the arm Yunho draped over his shoulder. Yunho looks down at him, raising his eyebrows in curiosity. “Well, what if it extended into the regular Quidditch season or whatever?” he suggests. 

“Huh? You mean at school?” Yunho blinks. “I think that’s quite ambitious of you to think you’d be able to beat my house’s team, but I also thought you weren’t planning on joining the team.” 

San clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, I’ll think about it,” he says vaguely. 

Yunho pulls him in closer while leaning down. “What does that mean?” 

“It means I’m thinking about joining,” San insists, trying to push Yunho away with his free hand. “I mean, it’s not too late, is it?” 

“No. If you tell your captain at the beginning of the semester that you want to be on the team, there would still be enough time to get your team registered.” Yunho peers down at the Slytherin, trying to read his expression. “You’re really thinking about it?” 

San shrugs his shoulders dismissively, trying to keep his air of indifference. “I mean, that game was fun.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not Quidditch,” Yunho reminds him. 

“Are you saying you don’t think I can play Quidditch?” 

Yunho reaches out with his free hand to playfully flick San with his fingers on his forehead. “I absolutely did not. You’re the one who says he doesn’t want to play, remember?” 

“Okay, but do you think I can?” San asks, reaching up to rub at his forehead. 

“I definitely think that you can,” Yunho tells him. 

San peers up at him shyly. “What if I play poorly?” he asks, mostly fishing for encouragement. 

“Losing doesn’t necessarily equate to playing poorly,” Yunho tells him, reaching up to ruffle San’s hair. “Stop thinking like a Slytherin.” 

“But I am one,” San says, nudging Yunho in the side. The Gryffindor just smiles at him. 

“Well, whatever you decide is fine, you know. If you don’t want to play, that’s okay. I understand. But if you do…” 

“If I do?” San prompts curiously. 

“I look forward to what you’ll want when you win,” Yunho says. San presses his face into Yunho’s side to hide his smile. This is a deal he’s definitely looking forward to. 

  
  
  
  


Seonghwa checks the time on his watch again, sighing in frustration when he notes that it’s getting late and San still hasn’t showed up. Wooyoung is standing next to him, bouncing on the balls of his feet, all decked out in Hufflepuff wear and holding a sign to his chest to cheer on his team. The three of them agreed to meet up twenty minutes before pitch for the first game of the season, but San is already almost ten minutes late. 

“Where is he?” the Slytherin grumbles. 

“Hm.” Wooyoung hums thoughtfully, scanning the area right outside the Quidditch pitch. “Maybe he’s lost?” Seonghwa glares at the Hufflepuff, smacking him on the arm when he giggles at his own suggestion. 

“It’s the first game of the season, and he actually wanted to watch it. Would it kill him to show up on time?” Seonghwa sighs. They’re not playing this game, but he’d been eager to bring San along when the younger boy had expressed interest in watching. “We must observe our enemies,” Seonghwa had told him dramatically. 

“Right, yeah. That,” had been San’s less than enthusiastic response. 

So why was San late? 

Then Wooyoung catches sight of a shock of blond hair, immediately recognizing the figure in the distance. “Oh, there he....” the rest of his exclamation trails off and he fully digests what San is wearing. He swallows thickly, unsure of what to make of his friend. “Is,” he chokes out the last part.

Seonghwa does a double take as well, staring obtusely as San approaches them. Wooyoung is all decked out in his house’s color, but it makes sense because it’s a Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor game. Seonghwa is dressed in his own house’s green and silver because even if it’s not his team playing it’s only natural for him to wear his own colors. So it’s weird to see San approaching them wearing a combination of red and gold—all not Slytherin colors. He seems bashful as he approaches too, tugging on the red and gold striped scarf that’s been wrapped around his neck, and hunching down over himself to hide the scarlet colored jersey he’s wearing. 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Seonghwa asks when San finally makes it to them. 

“Um.” San looks down at himself, cringing at the color combination he’s been forced into wearing. “I can explain,” he says. 

Wooyoung eyes his friend from head to toe, taking in the distinct Gryffindor colors and wondering when San had become such a fan, before a devilish smile spreads across his lips. “I knew it,” he says, reaching out to pull on San’s scarf. He looks like he’s swimming in his outfit too. The Hufflepuff has a pretty good guess as to why. 

“Knew what?” Seonghwa asks, turning to face Wooyoung. 

“There’s something going on between you and Yunho, isn’t there?” Wooyoung asks slyly. San quickly averts his gaze at the same time that Seonghwa makes an alarmed noise. “I knew it!” The Hufflepuff exclaims loudly, reaching out to try and pry San’s arms away from covering up his body. He wants a good look at this outfit. “This is all his stuff, isn’t it? Man, I figured something was up with you guys over the summer, but I thought you were just, like, kind of friends or something, but then the train ride back to Hogwarts this year?” Wooyoung tsks as he finally manages to get an eyeful of San’s outfit. He looks like he could easily blend into the Gryffindor crowd if he wanted to. 

“What happened on the train ride back?” Seonghwa asks. He reaches out to try and unwrap the scarf from San’s neck, but the younger Slytherin bats his hand away. 

“It’s nothing!” the blond denies. “This is nothing. I just lost a bet, okay?” 

“A bet?” Wooyoung repeats, eyes bright with curiosity. San bites his lip, hating the expression on his friend’s face. 

He’d lost the last dodgeball game of the summer to Yunho, but he probably should have seen it coming when the Gryffindor had said that there was a prize he really wanted from San. He’d defeated the Slytherin soundly after making that declaration, but when San had begrudgingly asked him what he wanted, expecting something along the lines of one last summer date of Yunho’s choosing, the Gryffindor had instead said he would collect on it at a later date. 

San had no clue what that meant, and he’d been incredibly weary and suspicious of Yunho for it. He remembered when Yunho had barged into his cabin of the train again, grinning lopsidedly as he collapsed into the seat next to San before Wooyoung could even try to move from his spot. The Hufflepuff had stared at them, evidently shocked at how close they must have become over the summer. San can’t say he blames Wooyoung. He hung out with just Yunho more times than even he would have imagined. 

San had been equal parts happy that Yunho wasn’t treating him any different than he had over the summer and wary that this somehow had something to do with the debt San still owed him for their last match. It hadn’t, but San had remained in a constant state of paranoia for the first few weeks of classes, always expecting Yunho to come and collect at some point. The Gryffindor never did, and San nearly forgot about the bet. 

Nearly, because a week ago Yunho had caught him on his way out of the Great Hall to tell him that the first Quidditch match of the season would be Gryffindor against Hufflepuff. 

“Oh, well good luck,” San told him. 

“You’re coming to the game, aren’t you?” Yunho asked. 

“Uhh.” 

“You’re on the Slytherin team this year! You have to come to the game.” 

San had made a face at the idea. “Why? It’s not like my team is playing. And no one in the house really goes to games. I don’t want to sit by myself in the crowd. I’ll look weird.” 

“You could sit in the Gryffindor section—”

“ _No_ ,” San denied before Yunho could even finish his suggestion. “Absolutely not. Are you insane?” 

“What? You’d fit right in.” 

San had looked down at his uniform, tugging his green and silver tie up to shove in Yunho’s face. “Fit right in? How?” He let go of the tie, letting it fall back to his chest. 

“You still owe me for my last win, remember?” Yunho reminded him. The blond sputtered. He completely forgot. “I want you to come to the game and wear my colors.” 

“You want me to what?” 

“You heard me.” Yunho smiled at him. “Won’t you come support me for my first game of the season? I was going to come watch your match.” 

San’s eyebrows furrow together at the request and admission. To be fair, he’s pretty sure the whole school is going to come watch Slytherin’s first match against Ravenclaw—probably to laugh at the Slytherin team. “I’ll come watch your game,” he relents with a sigh, heart fluttering in his chest when Yunho beams at him. “I don’t have any Gryffindor colors though. I mean, why would I?” 

“I’ll get you some of my stuff,” Yunho assures him. “But you have to wear it, okay? I won the last match.” 

“You collected on your prize, like, three months later though.” 

“Doesn’t make it invalid,” Yunho coos, amused by the sour expression on the Slytherin’s face. 

“When did you become so close to the Gryffindor Keeper?” Seonghwa asks after San finishes explaining his predicament. 

“Uh, well…” San scratches behind his ear, not really sure of how to answer. 

“Since they started dating,” Wooyoung teases. 

“You’re dating!” Seonghwa demands, lips parting in shock. 

“Uh. Kind of. I guess. I don’t know,” he mumbles, fiddling with the scarf as he avoids both of his friend’s curious looks. Are two people who get along really well and casually go on dates together and sometimes kiss usually considered dating? Yes. The answer is probably yes. 

San is spared from any further questions by a voice calling out for him. He squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment, although he can easily recognize Yunho’s voice calling his name. With a grimace for a smile, he turns just as the Gryffindor runs up to him, slipping his arms around San’s waist and pulling him into a quick hug. When he pulls back, San can see that he’s already all geared up for his match that starts in about ten minutes. 

“Shouldn’t you be inside with your team?” San suggests. 

“I was checking to make sure you weren’t trying to run away,” Yunho jokes, reaching out to tuck San’s hair behind his ear. Wooyoung makes a gagging noise that draws both of their attention, and San reaches out to jab him in the ribcage. 

“Who’s trying to run?” San scoffs, briefly meeting Yunho’s gaze before he has to look away. 

Smiling, Yunho drops his arm back down to his side. “Where are you going to sit? With Gryffindor?” 

“No!” San denies, waving his hands frantically when Seonghwa blanches at the suggestion. “We’re going to sit where Slytherins usually sit. Between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.” 

“Ah. Is anyone else coming?” 

Seonghwa clears his throat awkwardly, lips curling up when Yunho turns to look at him. “Our team is here to watch, but that’s about it.” 

Yunho looks pleased by the notion. “Cool, so you’ll be easy to spot then.” San flushes at Yunho’s observation, stuttering out an agreement. It hadn’t been his intention at all, and he’s suddenly self conscious about it. Yunho leans in closer to him and asks, “So, are we betting on who’s the winner or not?” 

Frowning, San pushes him away. “That’s for our games only,” he says. 

“Oh. So that’s how it works. Okay, I’m cool with that.” His eyes stray over to Wooyoung, and he smiles at the Hufflepuff. “Hey, good luck to your team.” Then he looks over to Seonghwa and says, “Congratulations on reforming the Slytherin team.” Yunho quickly excuses himself, saying he should probably get back to his team now—the pitch would be soon—but not before he presses a short little kiss to the corner of San’s mouth. 

San nods his head, waving to Yunho as he leaves to rejoin his team, completely ignoring the bewildered look on his friends’ face. When he’s gone, Seonghwa loops his arm around San’s and pulls the blond in close. “You, mister, have a lot to tell me about.” 

San laughs nervously, trying to slip his arm from the elder’s grip. “Yeah. I know. A lot happened over the summer.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San is constantly upping the ante on their punishment/reward system. Yunho responds in kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I just wanted to write some edging stuff. Main kink is edging with some bondage and oral thrown in there. I'm just attaching this to the story because I don't want to post it on it's on lmao

San tries to make himself comfortable on his bed—well—as comfortable as he can get considering the way Yunho used a binding spell to tie him down on it. He tests all the ropes, a mixture of nervous anticipation and plain excitement bubbling in his stomach. His wrists are tied firmly together, the ropes looping through one of the slates in his headboard to hold them in place above his head. Yunho had also pushed his legs up towards his chest, splaying his legs open to present himself and holding him there by tying his ankles to either side of the headboard. 

“I practiced this spell just for you,” the Gryffindor had crooned as he tied his boyfriend up. 

Now San bites his lips and curls his fingers into a tight fist, feeling vulnerable as he watches Yunho turn around his room with his wand in the air. A shiver runs down his spine when Yunho’s eyes meet his own. The Gryffindor licks his lips as he trails his gaze slowly down San’s naked body, drinking in the sight of his skin. 

“It’s soundproofed, right?” San asks anxiously. 

Yunho walks over to the night stand next to San’s bed, placing his wand down on top of it. “Should be,” Yunho responds, looking back over to San who’s so nicely spread open and tied down for him. “Try screaming,” he suggests with a grin on his face. 

“What? No!” San curls his hands into fists, tugging at his restraints. His stomach lurches at the way Yunho stares at him, his gaze dark and his eyes running all over the Slytherin’s body. “What the hell? What if somebody hears? If my parents find me like this I’ll _die_.” 

Yunho sits down on the bed next to San, reaching out to place his hand on the inside of San’s thigh. The blond tenses, sucking in a sharp breath as he strains his head up to look down. Yunho’s hand looks so big against his thigh, and San feels oddly dizzy at the sight. “The walls are soundproofed,” Yunho assures him, squeezing at the skin beneath his palm. San releases a little hiss, thighs tensing before relaxing under the Gryffindor’s hold. “And your parents are at work, remember?” 

“I know, but—” San doesn’t know what it is. He’s excited and maybe a little bit scared about what they’re about to do. It’s mostly just the idea of getting caught that makes San nervous, although that thought is quickly being buried in the back of his mind in favor of all the thoughts consuming him as he stares at Yunho’s hand on his thigh. 

The thing about the predicament San currently finds himself in is that he kind of brought it on himself. Kind of because he had been the one seeming to always up the stakes in their little punishment and reward system they implemented. Every game they played against each other, practice or otherwise, always ended with the winner picking a prize. Unsurprisingly, Yunho was usually the one picking out his prize. They were usually small, innocent little things: a winner’s kiss or a dinner date at Hogsmeade. 

San had been the one slowly upping the ante in what was acceptable to ask for which is probably how he ended up here, tied down to his own bed. Well, not completely. Yunho hadn’t exactly asked if he could tie San to the bed, it had just been the end result of San’s endless complaints and excuses. So really he just brought it upon himself. 

The last match of the season had been Slytherin against Gryffindor, fitting all things considered in San’s opinion. Yunho had found him a couple hours before the match with a determined little smile on his face. “I know what I want if we win,” he announced to San. 

The blond had been a little on edge at his words, worried because Slytherin had won the last practice match against Gryffindor. It had kind of been pure luck on San’s part. The Golden Snitch had flown right by him nearly at the beginning of the match. He had pulled Yunho aside after the match, away from both their teams as the Slytherin’s cheered for the win in the practice match while the Gryffindor players had kicked their gear around in confusion. Yunho had gone with him after patting Jongho on the back and telling him not to worry too much. It was just a practice match after all. 

When they had reached the other end of the field, away from anyone else, San had lifted himself onto his toes so he could whisper in Yunho’s ear, “I want you to suck me off.” Yunho audibly gulped at the suggestion but had shrugged it off without much fuss. As far as their requests went between each other nowadays it was fairly tame, until San adds “in the library.” 

Yunho froze up at the last part of his request, looking at San while the Slytherin bit his lip, looking hopeful. “That’s what you want?” he asked to double check. 

San had nodded his head eagerly, half expecting Yunho to cop out of it. He wouldn’t have been exactly surprised if Yunho turned him down, at least on the last part of the request, but the Gryffindor had shrugged his shoulders and agreed. San had been excited to say the least, although that excitement wore off as the week passed uneventfully until just a little over a week later when Yunho pulled him into the library after classes were over. 

He’d led the Slytherin into the Restricted Section, and San had been more than a little surprised by Yunho’s willingness to break quite a few social and school rules for this. However, he couldn’t complain when the Gryffindor pushed him up against one of the book cases before sinking to his knees. San remembered hating the feeling of the book spines pressed up against his back, but he quickly forgot all those thoughts when Yunho had pulled down his pants and sank his mouth down on San’s cock. 

It had definitely been one of the more memorable things one of them has asked for, and it had clearly given Yunho plenty of ideas because after Slytherin’s last defeat Yunho had come to him with a downright terrifying look in his eyes. 

San had sucked it up and resigned himself to his fate, turning to face Yunho with his shoulders squared, ready to accept whatever the Gryffindor wanted. 

“I want to edge you,” Yunho told him. 

San froze, jaw dropping open. “You want to what?” 

“Edge you,” Yunho repeated. “You know, tease you without letting you—”

“I know what it is!” San interrupted him. “I’m just....I didn’t expect that from you.” 

“So, can I? Or do I need to come up with something else?”

San hadn’t known exactly what to say at that point. “Uhh.” He couldn’t say he was entirely opposed to the idea, but he was definitely uncertain about it. Yeah, it was Yunho’s turn to pick his reward, but they’d had a couple suggestions rejected by the loser for the sheer discomfort of it. “I mean, I’m not opposed, but I don’t know about this,” the Slytherin told him nervously. “I’ve never done something like that before, and like what if I fight you something?” 

Yunho had blinked at the suggestion. “Fight me?” he repeated. 

“Listen! I don’t exactly like it when an orgasm is ruined. I’ll kick you in the face!” 

Yunho had cocked his head to the side, intrigued by San’s threat. “You’ll fight me?” 

“Well—I mean, maybe,” San stuttered. His body felt hot all over at the mere thought, but he still can’t help but wonder if he’d really like it. He’s admittedly intrigued, but a part of him also acknowledges that he might not totally enjoy the whole “not being able to cum when he wants” thing. 

“Okay. How about I tie you down and do whatever I want then?” Yunho suggested instead. 

“Tie me down?” San squeaked, pressing his hands into his gut when heat pools down there. “When? _How?_ ” San can’t even imagine when they would find the time and privacy to do such a thing. 

“During the summer,” Yunho suggested. “I can wait.” 

“Okay,” San agreed after a little bit of thought. 

Which is how he finds himself here. 

“You know, for someone who asked me to suck them off in a public place you seem awfully worried about getting caught,” Yunho told him. 

“It’s not that,” San whines, tugging at the bindings on his wrist and squirming around on the bed. “It’s just what if my _parents_ walk in on us?” 

“They’re at work, the door is locked, and your room is soundproofed,” Yunho assures him, kneading his fingers into San’s thigh. The blond’s cock twitches at the sensation, toes curling in pleasure. “Can you handle this?” 

San presses his lips together, staring down at Yunho who seems content to just run his hands along the Slytherin’s thigh. “Yeah,” he breathes out. He’s hard already, cock curved up towards his stomach, has been since Yunho had tied him up, and San realized how helpless he was in this position. 

“Okay.” Yunho moves his hand up San’s thigh towards his cock, pressing the heel of his palm right up against the base. 

San’s breath hitches, his thighs tensing and his arms pulling against his strains as Yunho lazily grinds his palm against San’s cock. “Fuck,” the Slytherin curses, his stomach lurching at the sensation. 

Yunho licks his lips at the sound, pausing to crawl further up the bed to posture himself over San. The blond sucks in a breath, nails digging into his palms. Yunho grinds his palm down harder and rougher, pressing San’s cock against his stomach. The blond chokes, his head falling back against the bed. 

Yunho pulls his hand away then, laughing quietly to himself when San’s whole body visibly relaxes into his sheets. “You good?” the Gryffindor asks. 

“Mhm,” San hums, breaths coming out heavy as he tries to calm himself down. It’s a total lie, though. Just the thought of what Yunho is about to do to him has him teetering on edge. The Gryffindor reaches for the bottle of lube he had set down on the bed next to San. Popping open the cap, he squeezes a generous amount onto his hand, coating his fingers and his palm. 

San’s breaths start to come in ragged, pupils dilating as he watches Yunho move his hand back over to the blond’s cock. San grits his teeth when Yunho wraps his slick hand around San’s cock, giving it a slow pump. The blond releases his breath through his nose, toes curling and stomach tightening. He keeps his legs spread, though, eyes fixated on the way Yunho’s hand moves along his cock. 

He presses the pad of his thumb into the slit of San’s cock. The blond releases a strangled noise of pleasure in response, bucking his hips up into Yunho’s hand. The Gryffindor draws closer to him, settling back on his heels as he sets a leisure pace. San tugs at the restraints around his wrists on instinct, desperate to reach down and touch Yunho, run his fingers along his broad shoulders, through his hair. He can’t, though, and Yunho seems intent to keep him that way, so his fingers curl around the rope instead, holding on tight. 

Running his thumb over the head of San’s cock, Yunho smears his precum all over the tip, pressing his thumb right beneath the head of his cock, and driving San mad with pleasure. Yunho continues to pump him, twisting his wrist just so every so often that has San keening for more. He reaches out with his other hand, finger playing with the tip of San’s cock and rubbing along his slit. 

San’s thighs visibly shake as his stomach tightens like a coil. He’s close. He’s so, so close. The blond’s lips part in a silent moan, back arching in anticipation. Just a few more strokes, and he’s there. 

Yunho pulls his hands away then, right as San is teetering on the edge. The blond collapses onto the bed with the huff. The coil wound tight in his stomach slowly unravels as the urge to cum recedes. He doesn’t altogether hate the sensation, but San isn’t sure he likes it either. 

“You okay?” Yunho asks him.

San needs a moment to catch his breath. With each passing second, though, comes more division between his absolute hatred and reluctant acceptance of his current situation. He can’t really tell where he’s at yet. San thinks that it hadn’t been the worst feeling when Yunho had pulled away from him just as he was on the verge of his orgasm, but he doesn’t know that he’ll still be feeling that way the longer Yunho keeps this going. 

Which begs the question, how long does Yunho intend to keep this going?

“I’m fine,” he wheezes out. A shiver runs down his spine when the pleasure fully recedes. His cock is still hard, but Yunho refrains from touching him there. He moves his hands along San’s legs, moving up towards his abdomen, then continuing up further until his fingers brush along San’s nipples. 

The blond gasps, hips jerking up again as his nipples quickly harden under Yunho’s touch. Yunho moves his fingers in circular motions, gently pinching each nub between two fingers before soothing over them with his thumbs again. He does this until San’s nipples are all pink and puffy, sore to the touch, but it still feels so good when Yunho plays with them. 

San tugs at his restraints once again, wanting to reach down to grab Yunho’s hands, but he can’t. “Stop,” he moans, squirming on the bed to try and interrupt Yunho that way. Yunho seems to take that as a challenge though, pressing down on San’s chest to hold him still before pressing his thumbs harder against the blond’s nipples. San cries out, fighting against his restraints until Yunho finally stops, his hands moving down to San’s waist and holding him there. 

San goes still on the bed, chest heaving. His entire body feels like a live wire, pulled taunt and ready to snap at the slightest pressure. Unfortunately, Yunho doesn’t give him that pressure. He just holds onto San until the blond calms down. Yunho admires the view in the meantime, tilting his head as he stares down at San’s reddened and stiff nipples. His eyes trail up, staring at the expanse of San’s neck that the blond has bared for him by tipping his head back. 

“I hate this,” the blond finally says, tilting his chin down to glare at Yunho. 

“Do you?” he asks, moving his hands down to hold the blond by his hips. “Do you want me to stop?” 

San sucks in a deep breath but stubbornly shakes his head. “No,” he answers, clenching and unclenching his hands to keep himself grounded. He can handle this. He refuses to give in so easily. “This is what you wanted. I’m fine.” 

“I don’t want you to hate this though,” Yunho tells him, rubbing his thumb into San’s hip. 

“I’m fine,” the blond insists. “This is why you tied me up, remember? Keep going.” He’s pretty sure if not for the binding spell, San would have climbed up Yunho’s tall frame and humped his thigh by now. Why did he have to open his mouth and put this idea in Yunho’s head in the first place? 

Yunho frowns at him, trying to decide if he should listen to the blond or not. “If you really can’t handle it tell me,” Yunho says before he finally moves his hands from San’s hips. 

“Oh, you’ll know if I can’t,” San answers confidently before his breath hitches when Yunho wraps his hand around his cock once again. Yunho gives him a couple of pumps but doesn’t play with him that much before he moves further down. 

San tenses up, breath hitching in anticipation. With his other hand, Yunho reaches out for the bottle of lube again. San shivers when Yunho squeezes out the cool liquid right onto his fingers, and San feels it against his hole. The blond lifts his hips up into Yunho’s hand, ankles pulling against their restraints to keep him in position. 

The Gryffindor rubs the lube into San’s skin, paying special attention to his hole. San licks his lips, his hips stuttering and his stomach clenching when Yunho presses a finger inside. He starts with just one, sinking it slowly into San as the blond mewls pitifully. He’s tight and hot around Yunho’s finger, and the older boy reaches down with his free hand to pop the button of his jeans to relieve the pressure around his own noticeable erection. 

Yunho pumps his finger in and out of San a few times, just a slow, smooth motion as he feels along San’s wall until he presses up against a soft, spongy tissue. San cries out, clenching down around Yunho’s finger, creating an even tighter vice, but Yunho just pulls his finger out, hooking it to catch against the blond’s rim. 

San only barely manages to relax his body once more when Yunho slips in two fingers this time, pulling a strangled moan from the Slytherin. Yunho continues with his previous pace, slowly pressing his fingers in and pulling back out, curling them to nudge against San’s prostate. He does this until San is a trembling mess beneath him, teeth clenched together as he stares up at Yunho. There’s a silent plea in his eyes, but Yunho pretends not to notice. Those pleas will be vocalized soon enough anyways.

He pulls back just enough to slip in a third, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches three of his fingers sink into the blond’s hole, San practically swallowing them up. “Shit,” the blond curses, clenching tight and hot around Yunho’s fingers. Yunho’s breath hitches at the mere thought of just how _tight_ San would be around his cock before he quickly banishes the thought to the back of his mind. Unfortunately those thoughts just don’t fit with his current goal. 

He’s been plagued with fantasies of San falling apart beneath him as of late, and this is how Yunho intends to get there. 

Yunho thrusts his fingers into San, curling them up to press against his prostate. “Faster,” San demands, lifting his head up to glare at the Gryffindor. 

Yunho almost laughs at his behavior—still so commanding despite his current predicament. He likes that about the blond. It’s fun to watch him charge forward without thinking about the consequences. “Are you sure you want to get there that fast?” Yunho asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

San presses his lips together, genuinely confused by what Yunho means. The older boy does as San wishes, though, picking up his pace to fuck his fingers into the blond faster. Heat coils into the pit of San’s stomach faster than the blond would have anticipated, pleasure rippling up his spine as his heart rate picks up. “Fuck, there. Right there. Just like that, Yunho,” San encourages him. 

“I know. I got you,” Yunho purrs. By now he knows San’s body almost better than the blond. They’ve been playing with each other since Yunho had asked San to be his boyfriend only three weeks into the school semester when he’d realized _just_ how close Wooyoung and San were. Jealousy had reared its ugly head at that point. He thrusts his fingers in deep, pressing up against San’s prostate and just rubbing over the spongy tissue. 

San feels the pressure in his cock build almost to his tipping point. He chokes out more curses from between clenched teeth, whimpering that he’s going to cum. It feels even better than the last time. His body feels hotter and his cock heavier, but just before he cums, Yunho slips his fingers from San’s hole. 

The blond howls in protest, quickly turning his curses to Yunho. “Fuck you! Oh, my God. Fuck you. I was about to cum,” San sobs, head falling back against the bed, hips settling back into place. The fire in his stomach and the pressure in his cock slowly dissipate until the feeling of his almost orgasm disappears completely. 

“I know,” Yunho coos, running his fingers in feather light touches over San’s thigh. The blond squirms at the ticklish sensation, holding his breath when Yunho’s hands wander down towards his cock. He releases his breath with a huff when the elder passes over it completely. “That’s the whole point of this, remember? Or did you forget that this is your punishment?” 

San lifts his head up to glare at the Gryffindor. Fuck them and their stupid game with each other. Why did San ever agree to this? “I hate you,” he growls at him. Grinning, Yunho reaches up to fondle San’s balls, gently squeezing and playing with them. “I hate you,” San repeats in a sob this time. 

“You’ll love this in the end,” Yunho promises as he presses down on San’s pelvis with one hand while he quickly sinks his lube slicked fingers back into San’s hole. The blond bucks his hips, but Yunho holds them down on the bed with his hand, fingers splaying over his stomach as he presses down with his palm. 

San tugs at his bindings when Yunho fucks his fingers into him this time. His lips parting in a soundless moan as he tries to pull up, body naturally trying to fold itself over with the sudden pleasure. 

Yunho’s rougher than before, fucking San at a faster pace and making the pressure against his prostate almost unbearable between the fast paced thrusts of his fingers and the way he holds down San’s hips with his hand. It directs all the pressure and pleasure to that one spot, driving him fast and closer to the edge than anything before it. 

There’s not even much of a slow build up this time. His orgasm builds up almost as suddenly as Yunho. A tingling sensation builds in his thigh, so intense that San feels numb there for a moment, wondering if the ropes binding his legs to the headboard are too strong. 

Yunho presses down on his pelvis harder, leaning his weight on it to give himself more leverage to fuck his fingers into San’s loose hole. San clenches and unclenches his hands together in a rhythmic pattern, only small little gasps and punched out breaths escaping his lips. He can’t make any other noise than that. His mind completely blanks, ears ringing and everything sounds distant. Even the filthy squelching sound Yunho makes as he fucks into San sounds like it’s barely there although San swears it's the only sound he can even hear. 

Just like the last times though, Yunho pulls away from him at just the last second, and as quickly as it all started, it suddenly stops. San shouts in anger and frustration, although those quickly deteriorate into little sobs as tears gather in the corner of his eyes. The overwhelming need to cum taken from him three times now, San’s anger quickly morphs into tears of frustration and babbles of incoherent pleas. 

“Please,” San pleads, the word prolonged in a whine. He arches off the bed, body twisting as he searches in vain for relief for his cock. He’s so hard it’s bordering on painful now. He just wants to cum, and he doesn’t know if he can take anymore of Yunho’s games. His limbs ache, his cock aches, the only thing he can think about is the overwhelming desire to cum and how much he thinks he’ll hate Yunho if the elder doesn’t give him what he wants this time. His bangs stick to his forehead, damp with sweat.

Yunho licks his lips as he stares down at him, his own cock swelling even further in his pants. San looks wrecked and helpless. Exactly like how the Gryffindor had wanted him. 

“Please,” the blond begs. “No more. I just want to cum. I can’t take this anymore.” 

“You want to cum?” Yunho asks, hands moving back to their previous position. He pushes down on San’s stomach again, holding the blond down against the bed, but he circles his fingers around San’s hole with his other hand, pressing down light enough for a pleasurable pressure but not enough to breach. 

Nevertheless San whimpers at the touch, body quaking underneath Yunho’s touch. “Yes. Yes! I want to cum,” San cries out. 

“Will you ask me for it?” Yunho requests. He raises both his eyebrows when San glares down at him, expression heated and filled with disbelief. 

“Have you lost your—” San isn’t able to complete his thought, however, because Yunho pulls a whimper from San’s lips when he sinks his fingers back into the blond’s hole. He doesn’t move after that. San squirms and wiggles around, trying to find his own relief but looking like a fool when he can’t fuck himself down on Yunho’s fingers. He breaks quickly. 

“Please, _please_ , can I cum? Please will you let me cum?” San begs desperately. “It hurts so bad. Yunho, please. Please will you make me cum?” 

Yunho sucks in a breath, his own cock straining against his pants, but he ignores it because right now he’s getting exactly what he wants from San. Wordlessly, he obliges, thrusting his fingers deeper into the blond. San gasps out, throwing his head back to bear his neck. 

Unlike before, Yunho builds up a pace rather than immediately fucking into San roughly. He’s quick, however. Slow sensual strokes turning into prolonged, rough thrusts until Yunho finally returns to fucking San as brutally as before. The wet squelching sounds of his fingers sinking into the blond are obscene, the bed rocking and creaking a little under the force of it all. 

Yunho’s slow build up does its job. Rather than the sudden onslaught of a fast approaching orgasm like last time, the build up is slower this time, although it still takes an embarrassingly short time for San to get worked up to this point. Fire licks at the inside of his guts, gasping with each rough touch against his prostate. 

“Can I cum?” San asks in a breathy voice, toes curling when the pressure builds up quickly in his abdomen and cock. His toes curl and his balls tighten. Definitely, this time for sure he’s going to cum. He’s going to, and if Yunho ruins this for him he swears to God— “Yunho, please, please, _please_ let me cum this time. Please, I need to. I need it,” he begs mindlessly. 

Yunho grunts, fucking his fingers up into San a few more times before he thrust them in deep, curling them up to play with his prostate. The wire coiled deep in his belly finally comes undone as San cums with a loud cry. His whole body lurches out as he finally, finally embraces the sweet release of his orgasm. Cum spills out from his cock, coating his stomach and Yunho’s hand as shockwaves ripple through San’s body. There’s a ringing in his ears that dampens his hearing, but all San can focus on is the full body pleasure that crashes over him. 

It’s not just one of those orgasms he feels in his cock and stomach at most. His whole body feels numb with pleasure, all his muscles tensed up as he reaches that apex of pleasure that continues to build because Yunho is still finger fucking him, paying all his attention to the blond’s prostate. 

When it’s over, and he’s coming down from his high, San goes limp on the bed and finally finishes releasing his breath. 

Yunho pulls away from San then, fingers slipping from his hole as he twists his body around towards the night stand. He grabs a tissue from the tissue box and his wand from the stand. Quickly wiping his hand clean with the tissue, he uses his wand to undo the binding spell, catching both of San’s legs when they fall down, completely boneless. 

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asks as he kneads his hands into San’s thigh. 

The blond trembles at the sensation, his spent cock twitching. “Amazing,” he admits, staring up at his ceiling with his arms still held above his head. He can’t move. There’s no way. “That was amazing.” 

Yunho beams at him, moving to run his hands over his other leg. “I told you you’d like it in the end.” 

“We’re doing this again,” San determines. “Not often though.” 

Yunho holds back a snort, crawling around to San’s side so he can reach up to start kneading his fingers into San’s wrist. The blond’s eyes finally wander to him then, eyes tracing down the Gryffindor’s body and noting how he’s still fully clothed with only the button and zipper of his jeans undone. He can clearly see Yunho’s erection straining against his pants. 

“What about you?” he asks, lifting his eyes up to meet Yunho’s. 

The elder shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t worry. I got what I wanted, and you’re too tired.” 

“This was your prize though.” 

“And I got exactly what I want,” Yunho assures him, repositioning San’s hands to a more comfortable position. 

The blond frowns at him, tilting his head to the side to face Yunho. Staring the Gryffindor in the eye, San wordlessly opens his mouth, tongue lolling out as if in invitation. 

“What are you doing?” Yunho asks, hooking his thumb into the corner of San’s mouth. The blond reacts instantly, swiping his tongue over his finger. 

“Come on,” San urges. “You can’t just not cum.” 

Yunho shrugs his shoulders, hands moving to the hem of his pants, but he makes no move to pull them down. “I can take care of myself later.” 

San looks affronted by the suggestion. “You’d rather take care of it yourself later when you could put your cock in my mouth instead?” 

Yunho’s stomach twists, his cock throbbing at the suggestion. Well, when the blond puts it like that, how is he supposed to resist? San parts his lips again, tongue coming out to wet his lips, and Yunho quickly shimmies his pants down his thighs. Finally, the blond thinks, opening his mouth further when Yunho offers him his cock. San still can’t move much, too boneless and fucked out, so he guides Yunho’s hand into his hair, encouraging him to hold him up that way as Yunho sinks all the way into San’s mouth. 

The blond chokes when the tip hits the back of his throat. Yunho moans at the sensation, holding San’s head still to maintain the sensation. His mouth is so warm and wet around Yunho’s cock, and he hollows his cheeks, proud when Yunho hisses, cursing how tight and warm the blond’s mouth is. 

Yunho doesn’t last long like this, giving little thrusts of his hips as he chases his fast approaching orgasm. Pushing San’s head down onto the mattress, he nearly pulls the blond completely off his cock. Only the head of his cock remains between San’s red and swollen lips. 

Biting his lip, Yunho pushes his hips forward, pressing the tip of his cock against San’s cheek and watching with a growing sense of pleasure as San’s cheek bulges. The blond gurgles around his cock, trying to say something, but Yunho focuses on his cock bulging against San’s cheek as he reaches down to pump the part of his shaft that San’ can’t fit in his mouth. 

That visual combined with the way San looks all sprawled out and well fucked on the mattress pushes Yunho over the edge and he cums with a low groan, spilling his seed onto San’s tongue. The blond hums at the taste, sealing his lips around the head of Yunho’s cock when he tries to pull back. He gives it one last sloppy suck before Yunho pulls back, and San audibly gulps. 

“Fuck,” Yunho curses, staring at the blond in a trance. 

“There,” San says, satisfied with himself. “Congratulations for winning.” 


End file.
